


The Only Difference Between Roommates And Worst Enemies Is Press Coverage

by alpacameron



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ADHD, Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Humor, Asexual Bokuto Koutarou, Asexual Character, Asexuality, College, Comedy, Enemies to Friends, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Roommates, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Updates :(, Texting, Trans Character, Trans Kozume Kenma, Trans Male Character, University, drunk antics™, kuroo is afraid of everything™, like... s l o w, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 78,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacameron/pseuds/alpacameron
Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou and Bokuto Koutarou are two upcoming university students searching for apartments with relatively low rent and absolutely no infestation of any kind of insect or rodent. However, they were not expecting a snake.-this is the story of how kuroo fucked up.or, how he accidentally ended up rooming with his "sworn enemy" and everything kind of goes to shit.(tags will be added as the story progresses)





	1. You'll Never Believe Who These Two People Ended Up Living With

**Author's Note:**

> um?? so what is this??
> 
> we got this idea wayyyy back in the beginning of the year in march - partly inspired by [this amazing rhymewithrachel art](http://rhymewithrachel.tumblr.com/post/141044746788/a-spin-off-about-the-tokyo-trio-would-be-real) \- and it took us like a really long time to write like 3 chapters but _anyways_ HERE IT IS.
> 
> this first couple of chapters are just kinda establishing the setting and stuff, but it'll (hopefully) start taking shape and it'll (hopefully) be funny.
> 
> there might be a few minor manga spoilers here and there? but daishou isnt even in the anime yet so wyd if you haven't read the manga (just kidding, you should read it anyways. and also read the hq manga it's great)
> 
> (edit) also this bitch been on ffnet which if you're here idk why you'd wanna read on fanfiction.net but... yeah it's there. [here ya go.](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12199775/1/The-Daishou-Problem)
> 
> \- cameron
> 
> • • •
> 
> this took us a ridiculously long time to write (90% of time that could've been spent writing was spent coming up w headcanons) and we worked really hard on it so we hope u enjoy it. it's supposed to be funny and i honestly find it really funny, i just hope you guys do too. 
> 
> there's only a few minor manga spoilers and daishou's only been in the manga for a few chapters so i hope you like our interpretation of him. the third chapter is where the plot kinda starts and the first two are mostly just funny skit chapters. 
> 
> oh and every chapter title is modeled after a clickbait 
> 
> -esmae

Kuroo fucking hated mice. His hate for anything rodent-like was only rivaled by shitty movies based on really good books. He could not articulate the hatred buried deep in his soul for the scurrying, hantavirus carrying, _sickening_ rodents; so when he walked into an apartment absolutely _filled_ with them, the rest of his day was pretty much ruined.

For the eighth time since then, his brain decided to inconveniently remember that scarring moment when the door swung open to Rodent and Disease Fun World™. His knee slammed into the table. An old couple nearby moved.

"Oh my god, Kuroo stop," Bokuto said, drinking a concoction of sugar and cream that he called “coffee” and flipping through newspaper articles of obituaries and apartments. "Maybe someone will die and we can have their apartment."

"Nnnnnnn," Kuroo groaned, rubbing his temples as he desperately tried to forget the their traumatic, _disgusting_ experience. "I want to wash my brain out with bleach and antivirus."

"Which antivirus?"

_"All of them,"_ Kuroo replied, sounding traumatized.

“Which bleach?”

“The fuck, how many types of bleach are you aware of?”

"I don't know why you're still so upset about this. They're just mice. When I was little we had a pet mouse, but one time I brought it with me to volleyball practice and it didn’t stay in the gym and some cat ended up eating it outside. But they don’t even _do_ anything, anyways. Boringest pet ever.”

“But would you want to live in an apartment infested with them?”

Bokuto shrugged. “I guess not, but mice are more scared of you than you are of them.” Bokuto held up his hand as if he were quoting an ancient proverb. “What would they do to you, anyways?”

"Oh I don't know … give me _hantavirus,_ " Kuroo declared, slamming his hands against the table and staring at Bokuto.

"We live in _Japan._ Besides, owls eat mice." Bokuto grinned.

"Bokuto, for the last time, we are not getting a pet owl."

"Who said we're getting a pet owl?"

Kuroo glanced up at his friend.

"You don't…?"

"No," Bokuto resumed flicking through the paper. Kuroo drank the rest of his coffee, staring at him from the corner of his eye.

"Kuroo, look!" Bokuto said suddenly, shoving the newspaper in Kuroo's face.

Kuroo glanced over the page. "That's some old guy’s obituary. What, does it mention an apartment he wants to sell to strangers at a low price?" He asked, almost hopeful. Of course, his hope had already been crushed by student debt and the fact that apartments were _fucking expensive_.

"No, no," Bokuto peeked over the top of the paper and pointed slightly to the side: a listing for an apartment.

Kuroo sighed, rather dejected. "We can look at it, I guess. As long as there are no rodents _or_ bags of crystal meth clogging the toilet, I’ll be good." He paused and took a closer look at the ad. "It's a three-bedroom, though."

“Yeah, but look at the cost!” Bokuto pushed the newspaper right up against nose. Kuroo snatched it away and raised his eyebrows.

“Wow, the price _is_ pretty low for three people,” he narrowed his eyes, “but I don’t trust it.”

“Well we should at least check it out, right?” Bokuto insisted. “Look, it’s even close to _both_ of our universities. Maybe we can find a roommate to share it with us, or at least see if the owner can lower the price.”

“When did you start sounding so mature when making important decisions?”

_“What’s_ that _supposed to mean?”_

 

• • •

 

“If there are _any_ living creatures or drugs in that apartment room I’m leaving,” Kuroo said, pointing like an angry suburban mom at the open door.

Bokuto stepped towards the door and rolled his eyes. Kuroo reluctantly moved forward.

“Wait,” Bokuto stopped suddenly, “Kuroo, look at this.”

Kuroo immediately screwed his eyes shut. “Bokuto, I _swear to god,_ if there are any rodents in that apartment I am _leaving._ ”

“No, really, look,” Bokuto snickered excitedly.

“No. I’m not looking. Oh my god. Just tell me what it is.”

_“Kuroo!”_ Bokuto wailed.

Kuroo suspiciously opened one eye.

“Holy shit.”

_“I know.”_

“I can’t believe this–”

“The apartment number is _four-twenty.”_ Bokuto turned to Kuroo, suddenly serious. “We _have_ to get this apartment. It’s destiny.”

Kuroo looked down at Bokuto. “We haven’t even looked inside yet.”

“Kuroo. _Four-twenty._ ”

The landlord impatiently cleared his throat from inside. Kuroo smugly motioned for Bokuto to go on ahead.

Just two steps into the apartment was the kitchen, which was very narrow and small, but stocked with all the (mostly outdated) appliances they needed. There was a bar area cut out of the wall at the end of the kitchen with hardly any counter space to eat at. It allowed view of the living area, which was surprisingly spacious and featured two windows and a fire escape that overlooked a gross-ass lot across the street. The landlord led them through the hallway of three bedrooms: two facing each other at the end of the hall, and one across from the bathroom.

“Wait, you mean there’s only _one_ bathroom?” Bokuto asked.

“Mhm, just the one.” The landlord replied.

Bokuto groaned. “We can’t take this one, Kuroo. Not when we’re rooming with another person.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You take like eight years to shower! I can’t afford to share a bathroom with _another_ person.”

“Yeah, well we can’t afford to wait any longer to find an apartment!”

The landlord scoffed and assured him that whoever their roommate might be would probably be a decent person and not take forever in the bathroom.

When the landlord finished up the tour of the apartment, Bokuto and Kuroo went across the street to get dinner. At the moment they were _technically_ homeless – but only technically.

“I think we should get it,” Kuroo said. “It’s close to our universities and the price split between three people probably wouldn’t be that bad, plus it’s in good condition and pretty roomy. Besides, there’s this restaurant across the street.”  

“And there’s no mice!” Bokuto added.

Kuroo closed his eyes and sighed in relief. “And no mice.” He echoed. “Or drugs. Or weird smell. Or creepy neighbors. Or remnants of police tape, like that first place we looked at.”

“But there’s only _one bathroom_.” Bokuto wept, slamming his forehead down onto the table dramatically.

“Says the guy who wanted the apartment just because of the room number!” Kuroo roared. “You can deal with it!”

Bokuto pulled his head up and looked at Kuroo. “So, should we go back tomorrow and tell the guy we’ll take it?”

As if on cue, Kuroo’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Kuroo Tetsurou, correct? I’m calling in regards to the apartment you and your friend were looking at just a bit ago.”

Kuroo pulled the phone away from his mouth. “It’s the landlord,” he whispered loudly. Bokuto leaned over the table to listen. Kuroo put the phone up to his ear again. “Yes, what about it?”

“Another young man is interested in the apartment you two were looking at. He’s your age and needs a roommate as well, and he actually goes to a nearby university. I thought you kids might be able to room together. Kill two birds with one stone, you know? The only thing is that you’d have to tell me _now_ if you want it.”

Bokuto snatched the phone out of Kuroo’s hand before the landlord even finished.

“Yes, we’ll take it.”

_What the hell, man?_ Kuroo mouthed. Bokuto hit him in the face.

“Ew! The hell, Kuroo, why’d you lick my hand?” He yelled.

“Excuse me?”  

“Oh shit, I mean fuck. _Shit._ I’m so sorry, sir.”

The line beeped.

 

• • •

 

A signed lease and a day later (where approximately 70% of that time was spent doing last-minute packing), Kuroo and Bokuto blindly stumbled up eight flights of stairs with their first load of boxes – at least one box of porn, a huge bag filled entirely with Pokémon merchandise, and exactly 67 coffee mugs; as you would.

“Okay, wait. I have a very important question,” Bokuto announced as they ascended up the first flight. He stopped at the landing and faced Kuroo, a small Pikachu plush peeking out from the bag clutched to his chest. “It’s been on my mind for days.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. He swore the lights darkened dramatically as Bokuto looked down at him. “Yes?”

“When someone has a daddy kink, does that mean you want to be called daddy or you want to call someone else daddy?”

“Well, obviously it’s when you want to be _called_ daddy,” Kuroo stated as he stepped up to the landing, “uh, well, at least I think,” he added.

Bokuto hummed in thought. “Well, wouldn’t it be both, though? Like, if the other person wasn’t turned on by that, they’d just be calling their partner their dad. That’s pretty fucking weird. OR! _Or_ like, imagine you’re in bed with someone and they suddenly say ‘fuck me daddy’ like _WHAT_ would you even do? It’s so weird, like … why?”

Kuroo shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s … it’s pretty messed up.” They approached their door and Kuroo began to pull his key out of his pocket, but noticed the door was already cracked open. “Oh, our roommate must be here already.”

Bokuto ignored him. “Kuroo, I’m _distressed._ I _need_ to understand this.”

“Why, you got a daddy kink?” Kuroo snickered. He kicked open the door and they walked through the hall.

“No! I’ve just been thinking about this since last Tuesday and I–”

Their conversation stopped dead once they reached the living room. There, sitting smugly in a swivel chair ( _a swivel chair?_ ) in the middle of the completely unfurnished room like the sneaky little bitch he was, was motherfucking Daishou Suguru in all of his filthy glory.

 

Kuroo and Bokuto both stood completely bowed over in the landlord’s office.

“Please, sir, can we please room without him?” Kuroo pleaded. “We can live on our own and pay the rent just fine, but _please_ we just _can’t_ room with him.”

The landlord huffed. “Sorry, boys, but he already signed the the lease. He signed it before you, in fact, so I have no power to kick him out just because you can’t get along with him.” He glared at them. Kuroo felt that that looked was quite uncalled for, but knew their request was at least a little bit ridiculous.

Bokuto straightened up. “But he’s a dick, sir.”

“Don’t say things like that!” Kuroo smacked him. “Learn to read the situation!”

The landlord just _stared_ at them. He was visibly aging ten years every time one of them opened their mouth.

Kuroo cleared his throat and apologized. Then stomped on Bokuto’s foot when he didn’t do the same.

The landlord sighed. “Look. I can’t do anything about it, and I wouldn’t even if I could. Learn to coexist – or kill each other, I couldn’t care less as long as you keep the place clean. Just leave me alone. Very simple.”

Bokuto looked like he was going to cry and Kuroo was shaking like he was going to implode in on himself.

“But–”

“You two are high school graduates, right? Then act like it so I don’t have to talk like I’m renting an apartment to grade schoolers! You have to stay for at least a month. Once you pay that off, you can do whatever you’d like, okay?”

Bokuto and Kuroo left the office feeling like they were just told they had to repeat the second grade – for the third time, at that. Defeated, they rounded the corner to return to their snake-infested room, but the motherfucker himself was leading against the wall on the other side, likely eavesdropping on their conversation. No – _definitely_ eavesdropping, because at that very moment he confirmed their fear and looked straight into their eyes with a cunning, shit-eating grin on his face. That’s the face of a man who just heard his rivals being scolded like six year olds. Bokuto and Kuroo were absolutely sure they would never be able to cohabitate with the supreme asshole overlord that was Daishou Suguru.


	2. 24 Hilarious Times That No Fun Was Had Whatsoever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this clickbait is an actual word for word ad i found on kissanime
> 
> \- cameron

Kuroo fucking hated Daishou. His hate for the filthy snake was only rivaled by shitty apartments infested with rodents, bugs, and various remnants of illegal activities. He could not articulate the hatred buried deep in his soul for the devious, deceitful mastermind that was Daishou; so when he walked into his new apartment to find that the man himself was their new roommate, the rest of his day was pretty much ruined. Kuroo felt a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Ah, well that’s Kuroo and Bokuto-san for you,” Daishou said, “acting purely on impulse and making undesirable situations much, much worse.” He straightened up and faced the pair, teasing expression still on his face. “If you had left it to me, I’m sure things would have gone a lot smoother.”

“WHAAAAAAT?” Bokuto cried incredulously.

Kuroo stiffened. “You set this up, didn’t you?”

“A setup?” Daishou laughed. “Do you think I want this? Believe me when I say that I don’t want this either. I’d just rather stay on the guy’s good side.”

Kuroo and Bokuto stared at Daishou in a painful, loathing silence. He just stared back with that stupid look on his face.

Kuroo cleared his throat. _“We’re going to bring up the rest of our stuff.”_

As soon as they descended enough flights of stairs to be out of earshot, Bokuto screamed.

“AUUHHH! What is _wrong_ with him?”

“He’s petty. That’s what’s wrong with him. He likes to make every little thing something to argue about.”

“Well if that’s the case, doesn’t that make us petty sometimes, too?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Kuroo mumbled, “that’s why we don’t get along.”

“Hmm, well how about we find something to be petty about _together?”_

Kuroo scoffed. “Like _we_ have anything in common.”

As they exited the lobby, Kuroo unlocked the car and they continued to unload their endless boxes of stuff. This round, Kuroo gathered his suitcase (which he managed to shove all of his unfolded clothes into, finally being free of his collection of school uniforms), a backpack filled with study materials (he was very prepared academically), another backpack for his volleyball supplies, and a laptop case that he hung over his front. Bokuto seemed satisfied with carrying as many bags as he could all down his arms, plus a broom, a mop, a fly swatter, and a lamp unfortunately shaped like a dildo balanced over his shoulder.

“You wanna take the elevator?” Kuroo asked with a small grin. Bokuto shook his head and started up the stairs, but tripped on the third step. Kuroo snickered and held the elevator open for him.

 

• • •

 

They finally stumbled into their new apartment with the last of their things, and _finally_ got to sit down when motherfuckering Daishou walked in, carrying a houseplant, a bag of clothes, and a box of macaroni art.

Despite the internal vow he made to not talk to the snake for the entirety he had to live in the godforsaken apartment, Kuroo could not let this go unquestioned. “Um. What is that.”

“It’s _art_. I wouldn’t expect you two to understand it since you have the mental capacity of a three year old combined.”

“Says the one with the box of macaroni art,” Bokuto snickered. Kuroo simply glared at Daishou, but then a light seemed to go off behind his eyes. He grabbed a bright pink mug from his box that said BITCH across it in English. He magically found a sharpie that he had drawn many-a-dick on people's foreheads with. Kuroo scrawled hurriedly on the mug until it read “The Bitch Jar”.

“Five hundred yen for being a lil bitch,” he said, holding the mug out to Daishou.

“Okay, first of all, that’s a mug, not a jar. And second of all, I owe you nothing.”

“Five hundred yen or I strip naked and dance the macarena in front of _both_ of you.”

“Bro,” Bokuto said. He looked like he was trying to decide whether to laugh or be disgusted.

“Every time you’re a bitch, asshole, douchebag, jerk, or anything within that spectrum, you put five hundred yen in the jar,” Kuroo paused, “It goes towards rent.” An angelic smile that was not even slightly angelic shone on his face.

Daishou sighed, narrowed his eyes, then pulled out his wallet defeatedly. “Well, if you’re a bitch then you’re a bitch.” He dropped a 500 yen coin into the mug. “But I’d mostly rather go blind than see you naked again.” He picked up his stuff and walked away.

“Uh, what does he mean, ‘again’?” Bokuto not-really whispered to him.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, but his eyes screamed pain, embarrassment, and an intense anime flashback he’d never dare to say out loud.

_Fuck you, Daishou._

Over the course of the next half hour, Kuroo was painfully aware of each time Daishou passed through with more of his things; carrying suitcases, duffel bags, a houseplant, moving boxes, a terrarium of some sort, a houseplant, clothes fresh from the dry cleaners, a houseplant, various IKEA boxes (some of which were _very_ large), a houseplant, a suspicious paper bag that emitted loud chirping noises, a houseplant; and finally, a slew of grocery bags that he dumped on the kitchen counter. And left there.

The groceries sat on the counter all night as the trio adjusted to their new home. Bokuto and Kuroo claimed the bedrooms at the end of the hall, while Daishou took the one across from the bathroom. Rather than sleeping, Kuroo spent his night unpacking all of his boxes and moving into his new room. Bokuto passed out on his bare mattress, surrounded by unopened boxes and suitcases. There were more strange chirping noises coming from Daishou’s room. Kuroo personally wanted to go over there and strangle Daishou even though he probably wasn’t the one making the chirping noises. It would still be nice to strangle him.

It wasn’t until morning when Daishou finally returned to the kitchen to put away his groceries. In the four hours Bokuto had woken up before everyone else, he had completely unpacked his room and disappeared from the apartment, leaving Daishou alone to put away the food and Kuroo passed out on the floor at the end of the hallway. Unfortunately, Kuroo woke up moments later from the begging of his empty stomach – being a light sleeper was a curse.

He peeled his body off the floor, stretched, popped every joint his body would allow, and eventually found himself in the kitchen with Daishou.

His eyes were still adjusting to the light when he noticed something quite large slung around Daishou’s neck – and that thing was now _moving_ (oh _hell_ no) and it lifted its head to look over at Kuroo and flicked its tongue curiously at him and–

Kuroo slammed his back against the wall faster than any man had ever gone before. “Daishou,” he croaked, “What. Is that.”

Daishou turned around with a carton of milk in his hand. Kuroo inched his way towards the door against the fridge.

“It’s a snake, you dumb piece of shit. Now move, I gotta put the milk away.” Daishou took half a step forward and Kuroo released a high pitched noise of protest from his throat. Daishou inspected him carefully. “Are you afraid of snakes, Kuroo?”

“What, no, that’s ridiculous.” He was tearing up. His eyes shifted nervously to Daishou's pet snake, which curiously twitched its head toward Kuroo. Kuroo inhaled sharply and shuffled to the edge of the fridge. “You never mentioned you had a pet snake.”

“Well, the more you know.”

“Do you… always carry it around like that?” He nodded towards the snake. It was probably the length of a twelve year old and Daishou had it laying across his shoulders.

“Not really, but if it keeps you away then I’ll have to start doing it more often.”

“If that thing ever winds up in my room I’ll kill it myself.”

“Good to know.”

“Well…” Kuroo dared to lean forward and grabbed banana from the counter. “It was nice chatting with you.” He leapt out of the kitchen.

“Hey!” Daishou yelled, “that was mine, you asshole!”

 

• • •

 

Throughout the few days that the trio had lived together, there were very few words exchanged. Kuroo and Bokuto seemed to always be out of the house, and whenever they returned they would slip off to their separate rooms and text each other memes for the following three hours.

Even though this silence seemed to spread throughout the entire apartment, (normally the only words exchanged were between Daishou and his snake), this didn't stop the endless chaotic happenings.

On the second night, Daishou hung up a portrait of Nicolas Cage made entirely out of tiny beads melted together. Which resulted in Kuroo claiming he stole it from him.

"When did I steal it?" Daishou inquired with a knowing expression on his face.

Kuroo knew the answer to this, but simply went red in the face and very quietly tried to reply.

"When we were… you know," Kuroo angrily whispered.

"I don't believe I do."

"You literally hung this up to antagonize me. Fuck you, Suguru."

Bokuto raised his eyebrows from across the room. As Kuroo stormed off to his room, he plucked the lampshade from the dildo lamp and threw it at Daishou, wildly missing. Daishou barely flinched and snickered as Kuroo slammed the door to his room.

The next incident happened because of Bokuto. On the third night, he lost his ADHD medication for a total of 16 hours and the apartment suffered for it. Throughout the hours of 1am to 9am, there were continuous sounds of furniture being moved, vacuuming, talking, and the apartment door opening and closing. When the other two finally woke up, the few items of furniture had been rearranged in a nonsense fashion, the entire apartment was spotless, breakfast had been partially made (and burned), and the swivel chair sat on the bar holding a volleyball with a smiley face drawn on it. Bokuto was nowhere to be seen.

Of course, ninety percent of the drama centered around the snake. Daishou loved his snake dearly and if anyone tried to touch it he got incredibly defensive. The worst snake incident happened a few hours after Bokuto's Adventures In Decorating.

"Daishou, get rid of that thing or so help me god, I will pour the rest of this coffee in your eyes. There’s no cream _or_ sugar in it and it will hurt your soul."

Daishou smirked and held up the snake twined around his hand. It flicked its tongue, and Kuroo scrambled on top of the coffee table.

"It's just a snake, Kuroo."

Kuroo narrowed his eyes and glared. He gestured to the snake with the coffee mug he was as a wielding weapon.

"That thing," he paused, "is evil." He side-eyed the snake, and it carefully turned its head towards him. Kuroo inhaled sharply and backed to the edge of the table. Daishou looked between his snake and Kuroo, then stuck the snake right in his face. Kuroo launched himself onto the carpet.

 _"My coffee mug,"_ he cried, pointing to the new chip in the handle and ignoring the soon-to-be-coffee-stained spill on the rug. Daishou laughed.

"Kuroo, you have like fifty mugs," Bokuto laughed from the couch, quite amused at the scene before him.

"So?" Kuroo snapped.

"You bought that one at a garage sale for eighty yen, and it’s an ad for a car dealership."

“Each one holds a special place in my heart, Bokuto – for example, this one I bought on the first day of the 2010 Winter Olympics and used it to drink countless cups of hot cocoa with.”

“You could literally do that with any other mug ever,” Daishou said, suspiciously devoid of snake.

Kuroo scowled and started to stand up when he touched something that most certainly was not carpet. He glanced down at floor, praying to everything that it wasn't what he thought it was.

It was.

He screamed.

Kuroo then proceeded to run around the apartment yelling incoherent phrases. This lasted for over an hour.

Whether it was Kuroo and Bokuto's insomniac ways, the mysterious past between Kuroo and Daishou, Daishou’s snake, or the snake Daishou; living together would certainly be an ordeal.

An ordeal they all hoped they would survive.*

*(Probably not).


	3. The Gods Messed Up And We're All In Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is another chapter title taken straight from a kissanime ad
> 
> things are startin to get kickin
> 
> \- cameron
> 
> sorry this is up kinda late lmao
> 
> also there's Bonding™
> 
> -esmae

Bokuto had no idea that leaving the door open would be a fatal mistake. Sure, it was one in the morning and they didn't live in a great neighborhood, but he didn't know something far worse than robbery would happen. He had woken up in a cold sweat and realized he’d forgotten all about his miniature watermelon, so he had to go down to Kuroo's car (the only car owned between all three of them) and get it from under the seat. Of course he considered closing the door, but his keys were all the way back in his room and he would only be outside for like 8 seconds. Kuroo always left his keys on the counter after he got home from the night classes he took, since he was never able to sleep anyways. So yeah, he left the door open, only to be woken the next morning from his boredom induced sleep by Daishou screaming.

"She's gone!" he yelled as Kuroo woke up off the floor (where he often slept) and Bokuto stumbled out of his room.

“Who, your girlfriend again?” Kuroo chimed. Daishou looked deeply offended and personally attacked. He whirled on them.

"You. You assholes did this. You wanted to get me kicked out of the apartment," he snarled in a surprisingly frightening voice. There was a crazed look in his eyes.

"Dude, are you sure the snake's not in the apartment?" Kuroo asked, nervously eyeing his surroundings.

"No, I looked all over."

"Well how the fuck would it have gotten out?" Kuroo asked, "how do you lose something over a meter long?"

Bokuto timidly raised his hand, "Well... I... may have left the door open last night." He let out all in one breath. Daishou and Kuroo turned on him, steam spilling from their ears in complete panic and rage.

"You let my snake out," Daishou said, incredulous.

"We could've been murdered," Kuroo squawked.

"But we weren't and that's the important thing."

"You let my snake out," Daishou repeated.  

"It was an acc–"

Daishou cut him off, "Since both of you are some sort of Disaster Duo, both of you are at fault. So _both_ of you are gonna help me find _Snake_."

"Ooh cool, a foreign name!" Bokuto said, either taking no notice of the blatant insult or ignoring it completely.

"Did you literally name your snake _'snake'_ in English you lazy shit?" Kuroo snickered.

Daishou just glared at him. "I don't think she can use the elevator so we'll start with this floor."

"Are you actually a complete idiot or do you just play one on TV?" Kuroo asked.

Ignoring Kuroo, Daishou continued, "Split up and find _Snake_ or I will personally murder both of you while you sleep.

"Try it, asshole, I never sleep," Kuroo replied.

“I’m a patient man, I’ll wait til you do.” Daishou and Kuroo were pretty close to a rival-forehead-touch.

“I have no intention of helping you find your snake. It’s yours and your responsibility and you can find it your damn self.” Kuroo retorted.

“It’s _you guys’ fault_ for leaving the door open in the first place.”

“ _I_ wasn’t the one that left it open! And you should have had it in its tank where it’s supposed to be, instead of letting it slither around your room like a weirdo!”

“That’s not your business,” Daishou hissed, “but you’re _going to_ help me find her or I’ll file a complaint and get _you two_ kicked out before the landlord finds out anything regarding me.”

Bokuto was a vibrating mess. "I need to call Akaashi," he blurted, and then bolted off to his room.

"Who the _fuck_ is Akaashi?"

"His unofficial boyfriend and caretaker," Kuroo said, “y’know… Fukurodani’s setter? The pretty one? Perpetually tired expression?”

Daishou dragged his hands down his face with so much force that his face became more wrinkled than an elephant’s ass. “Whatever. I don’t care. I don’t have time for this. You are gonna help me find my snake or so help me god while I live in this apartment I will make _both_ your lives a living hell," Daishou snarled. Kuroo's mild intimidation was thankfully still on the other end of the spectrum from being turned on.  

Kuroo narrowed his eyes. "Fuck you," he muttered.

"You know you would," Daishou snapped back.

Just then, Bokuto ran out of his room brandishing a phone.

"’Kaashi says he'll help," he said, vibrating now out of excitement instead of nerves. He showed the phone to Daishou and Kuroo, and on the other ends was someone so pretty it was scary.

_"That's your boyfriend?"_ Daishou gaped.

"Yes," Kuroo said before Bokuto could reply.

"Haha, no Akaashi's not my boyfriend," he said, mildly embarrassed.

"Yeah, someone like _you_ couldn't get him as your boyfriend."

"Wow, okay," Akaashi finally said from the phone.

"Bitch jar," Kuroo barked. Daishou sighed and stuffed money into the overflowing mug that conveniently sat a few inches away from them on a small table near the hall.

"So, you're actually gonna help me find her?" He questioned suspiciously.

The response was an apathetic sure. Akaashi's “sure” seemed Extra Apathetic™.

“But just because I’m a nice person,” Kuroo clarified.

"Yeah, sure… anyways, we'll split up into pairs–"

"I'll go with Akaashi," Bokuto interrupted. Daishou and Kuroo shared a glare.

"Problem?" Daishou asked in a sickeningly angelic voice.

"Not at all," Kuroo retaliated through a tight smile.

"Okay," Daishou chirped in a mock-cheerful voice, "you all better find _Snake_ or it will be the last thing you'll do."

"Did he literally name his snake ' _snake_ ' in English?" Akaashi asked, voice tinny through the phone.

"Y'know, threats are more threatening if you use them sparingly," Kuroo taunted at Daishou.  

Kuroo and Daishou glared at each other one last time before heading off to find the snake.

From the very beginning, working with Daishou was hell. He made snide comments, sexual innuendos at the worst moments, and got emotional about his snake every 5 seconds.  
  
"I just hope she's not scared or lonely," he stated, one-hundred-percent serious.  
  
"There's a snake lost in the building and that's what you're most concerned about? What if it eats a toddler."  
  
"Do you think the toddler would hurt _Snake_?"  
  
Kuroo facepalmed and held back tears of sheer frustration. _This is it, I've died and gone to hell. I always knew it would happen. I didn't think it would be this bad._  
  
"I think your snake will absolutely fine," Kuroo snapped, "other than the fact it has you as an owner."  
  
"Listen, I'll have you know I take very good care of my pets."  
  
"That's surprising."  
  
"I took good care of you, didn't I?" Daishou snapped back.  
  
Kuroo didn't know whether to be offended or reevaluate just how kinky his relationship with Daishou sounded. Instead he (stupidly) said, "You know I don't like you, right? I don't like you how I used to and I certainly don't like you as a person."  
  
"Really, I couldn't tell," Daishou said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. There was a beat of awkward silence.  
  
"I mean, you don't like me either, right?" Kuroo said, hoping to god the answer was 'no.'  
  
"What's there to like?" he snarled.  
  
"Bitch jar," Kuroo replied.  
  
Daishou grumbled and said something along the lines of 'it's a fucking mug,' but handed Kuroo 500 yen anyways.  
  
They continued searching in relative silence.

  
**TWO HOURS LATER**

  
Bokuto was crying, Akaashi was desperately trying to comfort him, Daishou was going on a paranoid rant about how they were trying to get him kicked out, and Kuroo was stress eating everything in the fridge.  
  
"You all just fucking hate me, of course you did this on purpose. You probably killed one of the only good things in my life..." Daishou trailed off but continued mumbling.  
  
"Chill," Kuroo said through a mouth full of takeout food that had definitely been in the fridge too long. "You're stressing us all out to the point of a mental breakdown." Daishou looked like he was about ready to punch Kuroo.  
  
"I'm so sorry I left the door open this is all my fault. I'm really sorry," Bokuto muttered from across the room. Akaashi continued to comfort him through the phone and he gradually seemed to calm down.  
  
"You all did this," Daishou was pacing now, running his hands through his hair.  
  
"Dude can you chill the fuck out?" Kuroo growled. Daishou turned to him and within seconds had him pinned against the wall, Kuroo was definitely scared _and_ horny now.  
  
"I'm gonna require dinner first," he whispered almost threateningly at Daishou.  
  
Daishou pulled away but still stared daggers at Kuroo.  
  
"Listen, as soon as Bokuto calms down we'll find your snake, but for now, _you_ just need to calm down. I can promise you this whole thing was an accident and will be over soon," Kuroo cringed, realizing he was almost _comforting_ Daishou. It seemed to be working though. Kuroo took a deep breath and put all the food containers he had taken out back in the fridge. The notion he might actually be concerned for Daishou crossed his mind, but he shook the thought away and went to find the snake. (Not for Daishou, of course.)    
  
Akaashi, being more of a level headed adult than the actual adults, found the snake. It was three feet up a vending machine two floors down. Bokuto has obliviously walked past it, while Akaashi somehow spotted it through Bokuto’s unsteady camera. It appeared to be heading towards the Sun Chips and Bokuto said it had poor taste.

“Well? Get it out.” Akaashi instructed.

“What? No! What if it bites me, or–or I accidentally stretch it too much and kill it?” Bokuto looked around frantically like he had been caught naked in the locker room singing Naruto OP 5. “I gotta call Daishou but I don’t have his number, but I can’t even call Kuroo cuz I’m on the phone with you! GAH!!” He collapsed onto his knees as the snake continued its slow ascent to the Sweet and Spicy BBQ Sun Chips.

Akaashi’s patience was as thin as the time they had left before calling the fire department became a requirement. “You can hang up with me to call–”

“Don’t talk to me Akaashi, I’m grieving!” He wailed. Akaashi sighed and let Bokuto weep for a few seconds. According to his calculations, it should happen in three… two… one….

Bokuto snapped his head up and a lightbulb appeared above his head. “I’ve got it! I’ll go yell up the stairwell!”

Akaashi wondered for the twenty-third time why he was still responsible for a grown man. He thought he'd handed over the job to Kuroo – but if Bokuto's going to keep calling him every time every time he got moderately stressed, at what cost? Bokuto beamed at him through the camera, expecting an approval. Akaashi gave an exhausted _go for it,_ and Bokuto swung at maximum speed around the corner and into the staircase.

“KUROOOOO! DAISHOUUUU!” He yelled in his outside-voice (and to the average human being, Bokuto’s inside-voice was equivalent to the normal outside-voice, so _Bokuto’s_ outside-voice had about the same effect and volume level of multiple consecutive jet engines). The clicking of Akaashi’s volume button would be faintly audible through the phone if it weren’t for Bokuto’s unacceptable loudness. He glanced back around the corner to make sure that the snake hadn’t slithered away from its original position (it was up the machine a bit further but still accessible through the bottom; they wouldn’t have to pay ¥311 for it – yet) and yelled up the staircase again.

Within seconds, Kuroo and Daishou came barreling down the staircase at lightning speed – almost headfirst, but not quite.

_“Where is she?”_ Daishou demanded.

“She’s headed for the barbeque!” Bokuto blurted.

“What does that mean?” Kuroo butted in.

“The snake’s up the vending machine!”

_“What?”_ Daishou bolted around the corner, spotted _Snake_ four-fifths up the vending machine, and _screamed_. Whether it was out of fear of the dire situation or relief that she was finally in sight and (almost) safe, the others couldn’t tell. He dropped to his knees (similarly to how Bokuto did just minutes before, but this time with more determination) and carefully slid _Snake_ out of the machine.

He cradled his snake in his arms and whispered comforting words at her, akin to a mother to her child after a waking nightmare. After a moment, Daishou gingerly draped her across his shoulders and stood up.

“Mission: Success,” Kuroo whispered under his breath.

“Thank you for finding her, Bokuto,” Daishou said, “and, uh,” he nodded towards the phone.

“Akaashi,” Akaashi reminded him from the distant phone speaker.

“Akaashi, yes. Thank you for your help.” He seemed sincere in his thanks, for once.

“Don’t I get a thanks?” Kuroo objected.

“No. You didn’t do shit.” And just like that the sincerity was gone.

Kuroo insisted they go to dinner, even though he had consumed almost everything in the fridge (while on the verge of tears). They all walked across the street, even though Akaashi couldn't eat anything. Bokuto promised he'd bring him takeout later. Even Daishou went, with his snake draped across his shoulders. He almost seemed content, even though he was kicked out of the restaurant within two minutes of walking in.  
They told jokes and referenced memes, and Kuroo and Daishou shot back jokes at each other, as if they’d done it a million times before.  
  
For the first time in a week of living together, everything felt normal. Almost.


	4. 16 Interesting Things You Can Do With Plants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the headcanons made in this chapter were like... one of the first ones we ever made, and has since become an inside joke with our skype group chat. now it is time to share the inside joke with you.
> 
> \- cameron
> 
>  
> 
> i love this chapter bc of the hc that turned into this massive joke between everyone in our group chat and a recurring gag in the fic. sorry this took a while to update...
> 
> -esmae

Sliding down the hallway on the hardwood floor in your socks is _sport,_ _god damn it, Kuroo._ Bokuto much preferred the _art_ of floor sliding over Kuroo’s sock-carpet static electricity _trickery._ And he was going to think about this disagreement for several hours as he slid back and forth down the hall in his Bowser Jr. socks.

It was pretty fun, and the mindless activity kept him occupied for longer than it should have. At least, it was fun until Daishou suddenly opened his door and collided with Bokuto.

“Ow!” Daishou fell onto the floor with Bokuto awkwardly splayed across him.

“Bad idea…” Bokuto muttered into Daishou’s shoulder. He pushed himself up onto all fours and stared down at Daishou.

“What the heck was that?” Daishou asked. He did not look particularly happy about being knocked and pinned to the floor and probably wasn’t one to appreciate Bokuto’s _art_ and _sport_ of sock sliding. “And could you get off of me?”

“Ah! Sorry!” Bokuto scrambled off Daishou faster than he could scramble eggs (which was pretty fast - he’d timed himself before). He sat on his knees and Daishou picked himself up from the floor. “I was practicing.”

“Practicing…?”

“Yeah! Practicing my…” he looked up and noticed Daishou’s bedroom door was left open (as a result of their catastrophe), but inside his room were houseplants _everywhere._ Elephant ear plants stood on either side of his door, the long leaves hanging in front of the doorway like another set of doors. Cacti lined the bookshelves and flowers covered the windowsill. There were tall, tree-like plants in every possible corner, vines poured out of his closet, and he seemed to have a section of his room devoted entirely to succulents. At least three hanging plants hung from his ceiling, one of which had long ferns that extended several inches towards the floor. Every single possible surface had some sort of plant on it – including his bed, which had two bonsai trees on it.

“Whoa!”

“What?”

“You’ve got a JUNGLE in your room!”

"Oh, that," Daishou said flatly.

"Kuroo, you gotta see this!" Bokuto cried out.

"What is it?" Kuroo called from the living room, eating cereal by the handful out of the box like a heathen, "because if it's Daishou I've seen that far too many times."

"No, it's _his room,"_ Bokuto said, pointing excitedly.

"I swear to god if he has kinky shit in there..." Kuroo replied, rushing over to look anyways.

"It's just some plants you morons," Daishou muttered, irritated.

"Holy shit. What the actual fuck. Daishou you're probably the number one cause for rainforest death," Kuroo deadpanned, stepping into Daishou's room. Daishou scowled. “Why, though?”

Daishou shrugged. “ _Snake_ likes it.”

“You’ve got a fucking _jungle_ in your room. How are they not all dead?” Kuroo said from inside the room, almost invisible behind the plants.

“The power of love.”

He laughed dryly, “Hah, do you even have that?” Kuroo’s voice was sour.

“Clearly. I’ve been in three loving relationships while you’ve been in a grand total of zero.”

Kuroo ignored his remark. "But how do you expect to get laid when you have like nine plants on your bed?"

Bokuto laughed but Daishou just raised his hands and said, "Hey, listen, you never know what kinky shit people are into. Now get your sad, deflated ass out of my room, I have shit to do."

Daishou ushered Kuroo out of his room and closed the door.

Kuroo blinked at the door once, twice, and then looked over at Bokuto with a serious expression on his face. "Oh my god, dude, he totally fucks the plants.”

“Whoa! I can _hear_ you!” Daishou yelled from the other side of the door.

“Ahaha! You didn’t deny it!” Bokuto laughed.

“Plantfucker!” Kuroo yelled. “Daishou’s a plantfucker!”

“Wait, wh–”

_“Plaaaantfuckeeeer!”_

_“Stop calling me that, I don’t fuck the plants!”_

“PLANTFUCKER!”

The door swung open and before they knew it Daishou was up in their faces, infuriated. _"Listen you little shits, I do not fuck the plants.”_

“ _Little_ shits? Grow another ten centimeters before you go around calling us _little,_ Daishou.” Kuroo grinned down at him and rested his elbow on Daishou’s shoulder to emphasize the height difference.

Bokuto barked out a laugh and pointed his finger at him. “Haha yeah, Daishou, you aren’t very intimidating at your height.”

A very flustered Daishou shoved Kuroo off his shoulder. “At least I don’t have to resort to awful hairstyles in order to make myself seem taller.” The pair in front of him gasped. Before Bokuto could interrupt with complete confidence that his hair was _definitely awesome, excuse you Daishou,_ Daishou quickly regained his cool and said, “I do _not_ have sex with my houseplants, you barbarians. Besides, I think we all know who the kinkiest person in this apartment is.” He looked pointedly at Kuroo.

Kuroo gasped. “Me? Sinning? In my good Christian household? I’ll have you know I’ve never participated in a sexual or self-satisfying act in my life.”

_“Sure,”_ Daishou and Bokuto scoffed at the same time.

“Believe what you want, but it’s true. Now I expected that response from Daishou, but Bokuto, my friend,” he exclaimed dramatically, “you’ve _betrayed_ me.”

_“Anyways,”_ Daishou twisted his way out of the conversation and backed in towards his doorway, “I have serious business to attend to, so I can’t let you two distract me any longer.”

_“Oho, serious_ business, huh?” Bokuto teased.

“Do _not-”_

Kuroo leaned towards Daishou, smirking, "Plantfucker," he whispered. The glee he got from Daishou's pained expression couldn’t compete with anything at the moment.

"This is going to become a thing isn't it?" Daishou asked, defeated.

It did indeed become a thing.

Daishou woke up the next morning and found a drawing of a plant and something he liked to think of as a cactus (it was most definitely _not_ a cactus) taped to his door. Whenever he passed Bokuto in the kitchen he would yell 'plantfucker' at the top of his lungs, and Kuroo from wherever he was in the apartment would yell it back.

And _for god's sake_ he couldn't even "discreetly" watch a movie from behind Kuroo and Bokuto. Every single time a plant came on-screen it was the same thing.

"Look Daishou it's your new boyfriend," Bokuto said.

"If anything it's his 301st, as you can see he is already in a dedicated and loving relationship with 300 other plants," Kuroo snickered.

"Daishou, how could you?" Bokuto asked, completely serious, "Margaret and her brothers and sisters thought you loved them."

Daishou sighed, incredibly exhausted of this shit. "If you're implying that I would date siblings at the same time, that's just gross and wrong."

"And fucking plants isn't?" Kuroo raised an eyebrow.

Daishou’s had Enough™. It was time to strike back.

A couple of days later, as Daishou leaned over the counter to grab a banana, Kuroo walked into the kitchen drinking coffee out of one of his 67 coffee mugs that filled the entirety of the kitchen cupboard. This one had some dumb-ass hashtag on it and made him look like a white mom trying too hard to be hip and pronounced memes wrong as a joke.

"Now Daishou, it may be tempting, but please don't fuck the fruit," Kuroo smirked and took a long swig of his coffee.

"Whatever you say, _daddy_ ," Daishou snapped back. Kuroo immediately flushed blood orange and started choking. Daishou grinned and strolled off into his plant filled bedroom while Kuroo wheezed on the floor. At long last he had something he could use.

The next time plantfucker was shouted at him he shouted daddy kink right back and thank god it seemed to have the same effect it had the first time.

Daishou miraculously still had Kuroo's number and proceded to kinkshame him daily. More than once using the phrase 'u filthy little man'. Kuroo, unfortunately did not let this go unnoticed. While Daishou went on rants about the perils of daddy kinks like he was a priest giving a sermon, Kuroo sent him multiple pictures of succulents and cactuses saying things like, 'succ-ulents' and 'u like this kind of prick rite?' which only made Daishou kinkshame him further.  

The only problem in this war was Bokuto. He seemed to be utterly kinkless, and any insult or innuendo thrown at him just went right over his head. He provided Kuroo the upper hand which pissed Daishou off to a ridiculous extent. Daishou decided he needed to win this war at any cost, so he tried to persuade Bokuto over to his side.

“So,” Daishou said, “you and I both know Kuroo has a daddy kink. I mean it’s obvious.”

Bokuto simply laughed and replied, “Sorry, no fraternizing with the enemy.”

“Am I really the enemy? Or is the real enemy the disgusting sinner living in our own home?” Daishou asked, slinging his arm around Bokuto’s shoulder – an act probably meant to be friendly but it was really more along the lines of ‘creepy guy hitting on you at a bar’. Bokuto seemed to think the same thing and looked at Daishou’s hand as though it was an unwanted picture of a limp dick rather than a seemingly normal appendage.  

“You’re one to talk, plantfucker,” Bokuto responded, quickly ducking under Daishou’s arm and escaping. Daishou scowled.

“You probably have a foot fetish anyways,” he yelled at Bokuto’s back. Bokuto just laughed.

_Goddamn, he really is unkinkshamable._

Daishou turned to go back to his plant-filled room when he saw the bitch jar sitting on the table. A lightbulb went off in his head.

Kuroo was just trying to eat his cereal in peace but no, god hated him fucking Daishou had to join him for what was otherwise a calm morning. And _of course_ Daishou had to be grinning like the fool he was, unnerving Kuroo while he tried to eat his motherfucking Cheerios.

Finally he snapped. “What is it?”

“I have a present for you,” Daishou said, shit-eating grin spreading as Kuroo sputtered pathetically. Daishou placed a perfectly wrapped present in front of Kuroo, then stood up and left for his room.

Kuroo glared at the present and whispered ‘motherfucker’ to himself. He tried to ignore the presence of the gift for a few agonizing minutes, but curiosity killed the cat and satisfaction definitely did _not_ bring him back.

Inside was a mug that said ‘#1 Daddy’ in gigantic font across it.

Kuroo screamed.

The next day, Daishou opened his door, still in a good mood from his genius scheme, when he saw a little cactus stationed outside his door. It was actually kind of cute but it was ruined by the card underneath it:

 

_Dear plantfucker,_

_I wouldn’t with this one if I were you, it’d hurt._

_Love,_

_your daddy ;)_

 

Daishou inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and restraining himself from losing his shit. He glared at Kuroo’s door and vowed to end this in blood. He picked up the plant and brought it inside his room to water it.

The following night started out fairly normal, for Bokuto and Kuroo, at least. They had somehow gotten ahold of (as in, Bokuto had illegally downloaded) all the episodes of Cory In The House with Japanese subtitles and were now marathoning it on the couch while Daishou watched from behind them in the hall. Unfortunately, Kuroo noticed him.

“Hey there, plantfucker,” he greeted snidely.

“Daddy kink,” Daishou snapped at him.

Kuroo inhaled and placed his palms together, “Boi, for the last time, I do not have a daddy kink.”

“For the last time, I do not fuck the plants.”

“How do you water them then? Hm? _Hmm?_ ”

Daishou went to shove Kuroo jokingly, but he misjudged and tripped over the low coffee table, then fell directly on top of Kuroo. He struggled for a few minutes, gradually growing redder as Kuroo laughed. Daishou slipped and suddenly his face was inches away from Kuroo’s.

“Should we kiss to make it less awkward?” Kuroo blurted out.

“No? What the fuck?”

“I was kidding, asshole,” Kuroo shoved Daishou off of him.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Daishou plopped down in front of the couch and watched TV with them, openly and in view for the first time since they moved in together. They made jokes and laughed until 2 in the morning. Then Daishou insisted they watch Shrek. When All Star started playing they all sang it together, and when the movie finished they all passed out where the were sitting.

The next morning, Kuroo was drinking coffee out of his #1 Daddy mug and Daishou was filling up a watering can.

For the first time in five years, they shared a genuine smile.


	5. One Of Thirteen Ways To Get Rich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sighs..... this was supposed to be chapter 4.5,,, but ao3 doesn't _like_ anything that's not a number, so, we gotta push all the chapter numbers back i guess. thanks ao3 for making our short shitty half chapters into Actual chapters ┐(Wヮ￣)┌
> 
> by the way we really love comments (like, a lot) so we really appreciate the positive feedback we've been getting!! yells! thank you! pls continue because it really makes our day and it motives us to keep writing ^-^
> 
> (deep inhale) chapter ~~five~~ six is coming soon...... it's the longest chapter so far and also my fave so far............. be prepared..............
> 
> \- cameron

About two times every week, Daishou drags in a huge metal watering can through the apartment, fills it up, and spends half an hour watering his room. It’s so domestic Kuroo gets angry. How can someone so _evil_ be humming Disney tunes right now? How are you supposed to hate someone like that?

Oh, but Kuroo was the living embodiment of “if there’s a will, there’s a way,” and that included pettiness, hate, and everything in between. He would antagonize Daishou until the day he died if he could help it.

“Ugh. Look at him.” Kuroo said bitterly with a bitter expression on his face and a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Ew.”

“I bet he has weed in there. I bet he smokes weed. I bet this plant thing is just a big coverup to hide the fact that he’s a stoner.”

“Shit, if he does I’m gonna take it all and sell it.”

“No, Bokuto.”

“We’re gonna be rich.”


	6. Sex On The Beach And Other Aptly Named Drinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, welcome to chapter ~~five~~ six, also known as the longest chapter so far. have fun.
> 
> this chapter and the past couple have said that they were by me but trust me i could not have written any of this by myself ok
> 
> btw there's alcohol usage. just in case you needed a warning.
> 
> \- cameron
> 
>  
> 
> i rlly like this chapter and i hope you guys do too
> 
> -esmae

Daishou lived in an apartment with two assholes. He was well aware of this fact, but when he came home to an apartment filled with two assholes _and_ two of the assholes' friends, he had difficulty coping.

For a couple of different reasons, really.

First there was Akaashi, the even-more-stunningly-attractive-in-person kid that Bokuto had stress-called during the Wild Snake Chase. It took him a moment to recognize him (and he really had to emphasize: who was about 500 times hotter in person, like damn) as he had only briefly seen him through Bokuto’s severely cracked phone. Then there was a more familiar face: a handheld console sticking out of a large hoodie that ultimately turned out to be Kenma.

Both of whom looked extremely bored sat on the sofa as Kuroo went on about various recipes he’d yet to cook in their new yet shitty kitchen.

Akaashi seemed to notice Daishou before Kuroo did, but just stared at him instead of saying anything to Kuroo, which made Daishou extremely uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and Kuroo finally looked up.

“Oh, and here’s our shitty roommate.” Kuroo sighed.

“Not even a hello?” Daishou had to hold himself back from adding _and why are these people in our apartment and sitting on my sofa without my prior knowledge?_ Instead he just asked, “What’s going on here?”

“We gotta get drunk before school starts so we can survive it–”

“Great.”

“–And we were gonna decide on where we’re going, but Bokuto’s a FUCKING HYPOCRITE and is taking a million years in the bathroom getting ready.” Bokuto’s unintelligible but definitely angry reply came muffled through the wall.

“Cool. Have fun with that.” Daishou replied. He started towards his room but Kuroo caught his attention again.

“Wait–”

“What?”

“Do you, um,” Kuroo awkwardly looked around as if an easier way of getting his point across was somewhere in the room.

Daishou already knew what he was trying to say but thought it’d be funny to watch him suffer through it in front of his juniors. “Do I what?” He grinned and Kuroo glared at him.

Kuroo rubbed his neck. “Do you wanna, you know, tag along?”

“Come with you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. ‘Cuz you’re our roommate and it would be rude to not invite you.”

 _“Well,_ if you _insist,_ Kuroo,” Daishou replied grandiosely with that dumb look on his face. “It’d be rude for me to decline, after all.”

“Shouldn’t have invited him,” Kenma muttered, and thankfully for everyone’s sake Daishou didn’t hear.

“Well then,” Kuroo stood up with that dumb grin on his face, “I guess I should introduce everyone.” Akaashi stood up with him but Kenma just turned away.

“Daishou, this is Akaashi. He found your stupid snake. Fukurodani captain and setter.”

“Nice to meet you,” Akaashi greeted.

“Hi, I’m Daishou. Also, I’m ten times gayer than I thought I was.” Daishou blurted out. His voice was confident but his eyes screamed _regret._

“Great, another Kuroo.” Akaashi sat back down.

Kuroo laughed. “Akaashi can see through your shit, Daishou.”

“Unfortunately, I can also see through yours, Kuroo-san.”

“Damn,” Kenma whispered.

Daishou then realized that Akaashi wasn’t just quiet – he was a rude ass kid.

It only took a million years, but Bokuto finally burst his way out of the bathroom, funky fresh and hair newly gelled. “Hey hey hey! I’m ready to go! Have you guys figured out where we’re going yet?”

“Nah. But Daishou’s coming with us.” Kuroo said.

“Why.”

“Wow, thanks,” Daishou rolled his eyes, “Your boyfriend’s a fucking Adonis, by the way.”

Akaashi simply snorted at this while Bokuto looked incredulous, “He’s not my boyfrie– wait who’s Adonis?”

“It’s a… you know what, nevermind,” Daishou mumbled.

“Why are you coming with us again?”

“Kuroo was being polite, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi explained.

Bokuto’s laugh was borderline insulting. _“Pfft!_ Kuroo? Polite to _Daishou?”_

Kuroo gasped dramatically. “I’ll have you know I’m a very nice person; I’m polite even to snake charmers with plant kinks. Didn’t your parents ever teach you manners, Bokuto?” Bokuto seemed to seriously contemplate this.

Kenma then tugged on Kuroo’s shirt. He bent down and Kenma said something into his ear.

“Yeah, we’re gonna go soon. We just need somewhere to go.”

Daishou pulled out his phone. “You know, my cousin would probably just give me alcohol. He had some really good drinks last time I saw him. Want me to call him?”

Kuroo shrugged. “We wouldn’t have to go anywhere.” Kenma nodded in agreement.

“Or pay,” Akaashi added.

“Alright. I’ll give him a call.” Daishou moved to the kitchen and called him up.

Bokuto collapsed face first into the sofa and groaned. “I got ready for nothing.”

“You got ready for a good time, bud.” Kuroo patted Bokuto on the back.

Daishou leaned over the bar as he spoke on the phone. “Hey buddy, can you get us some of that beer you had at your party? … Yeah, yeah, that stuff. Can you bring some over? My roommates and I are gonna get smashed.”

Akaashi sighed and shook his head. “He could’ve used some better vocabulary.”

Daishou ignored his remark, already fully aware that Akaashi could drag his ass without even batting an eye, and sat down after hanging up the phone. He stared at Kenma with an expression on his face that couldn't quite be interpreted as friendly. Kenma glanced up at him, sighed, and turned his attention back to his game.

"So Kenma talks now, hm?" Daishou suddenly said aloud without thinking. Unfortunately, Daishou was someone who was unable to control their tone at the worst of times and the muse came out a lot meaner than he anticipated.

The quiet chatter in the apartment went silent. Bokuto looked appalled and Akaashi just seemed confused. Kenma barely flinched, but Kuroo whirled on him with a murderous intentions. Daishou hoped he would say something to lighten the mood or instruct him to put money in the bitch jar. He was not so fortunate.

"Don't you fucking dare," Kuroo said in a low, calm, and ultimately terrifying voice. Daishou had regretted it as soon as he said it and for the first time in his life actually felt bad for pissing Kuroo off.

"Kuro," Kenma softly sighed and gave him a small shrug. Kuroo glanced between him and Daishou and went back to ranting about how he hoped to drink himself to death rather than start college. The tension in the room slowly dissipated but Daishou still felt awkward sitting there in silence with Kenma while he played what looked like the new Pokemon game.

Finally, _finally_ , his cousin arrived with alcohol. Excessive amounts of it. Like a fuck ton. More than they could probably drink, but, goddamn, they would try.  

"I want to die," Kuroo said, staring at the massive pile of beer, vodka, liquors and liqueurs.

"Me too," Bokuto replied.

"Same."

"Same."

"Same," Daishou finished.  

"Die squad," Kuroo said, smirking and pulling out a beer. They all followed suit, and clinked their beers together.

"Die squad," they cheered simultaneously.

Bokuto immediately rushed into the kitchen, opened his beer on a drawer handle, and started chugging.

"Okay, we get your point, but maybe chill," Akaashi deadpanned.

"No moderation: we die like men," Bokuto replied, and resumed guzzling alcohol. He quickly finished the bottle and stumbled a little bit. He sat down next to Akaashi.

"Guuuuuys! We can't just sit here in silence! That's just awkward," Bokuto said.

"If we get drunk it will be easier to talk," Kuroo replied.

"You make a fair point." Everyone took a drink.

_(About 56 seconds of silent drinking later.)_

"We should play a drinking game," Daishou suggested.

"Never have I ever," Kenma suggested, as he normally won. Or lost, depending on how you look at it.

"Okay sure," Bokuto said, moving the table out of the way and halfway across the apartment, specifically right in front of Daishou’s door, so they could all sit in a circle on the carpet (Kuroo’s fear-induced coffee stain right in the middle).

"Was that really necessary?" Daishou asked.

"W-Was your face really necessary?" Bokuto said; he stuttered. He then high-fived himself. _“Nice one.”_

"I'll go first," Kuroo said, picking up his bottle idly. He inhaled, contemplating, "Never have I ever been accused of having sexual relations with a plant."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," Daishou sneered and took a drink.

About thirty minutes later Daishou had consecutively lost three games and was now drunk off his ass.

"This is biphobia," he slurred.

Kuroo laughed, "Dude, you're such a lightweight."

"Fffuck you."

"It's my turn, bitch. Never have I ever been 'attacked' by a bird while riding a bicycle, then crashing the bike and breaking my arm."

Daishou took another drink, winced, and said, "I fucking hate you."

"Hate you too," Kuroo replied.

Bokuto squawked like he'd had a revelation, "We should play with vodka."

"You already suggested that, we all said no," Akaashi sighed.

"Oh."

"Why aren't you drunk yet Akaashi?" Daishou attempted to raise his eyebrow but ended up just moving his face around.

"You all think getting hammered is gonna solve your problems, like sip sip motherfuckers you're still depressed. Also I don't do dumb shit."

"I may be depressed but I'm also drunk so who's the real winner here?"

"Still me," said Akaashi.

Kenma sighed and opened up his game.

Kuroo hummed, "Never have I ever–wait, Kenma, what's wrong?"

Kenma hadn't realized he was crying until Kuroo pointed it out.

"I-I can't see my game..."

Everyone groaned except Daishou.

"Wait, what's wrong?"

"Kenma gets really emotional when he’s drunk. One time I found him crying over a really bad painting of a cat," Kuroo answered.

“H-He,” Kenma hiccuped, “He was trying his best…” he whispered.

Daishou gave a gasp that was exaggerated by his drunkenness. "Kenma? Emotional? In my house?"

Kuroo chucked a bottle cap at Daishou. “Shut the fuck up.”

“O-Our house…” Bokuto drunkenly corrected.

“Apartment,” Akaashi double-corrected. At this point, Akaashi’d been sighing more than drinking.

Kuroo stood up, grabbed onto Bokuto’s hair for support (much to Bokuto’s dismay and anger), blinked really hard, and made his way towards the alcohol stack. He pulled various bottles out at random and slid them across the carpet to their holy alcohol sacrifice circle and then leapt into the kitchen, coming back with a bottle opener, various random ingredients, and a My Neighbor Totoro mug.

“Master mixologist Kuroo Tetsurou coming through,” he announced, plopping down onto his spot in their circle. Bokuto was still heatedly trying to fix his hair.

It took half a second for Akaashi to figure out what was about to happen. “Kuroo no.”

“Kuroo yes.”

“Kuroo, don’t mix a bunch of beer together.”

“Kuroo _do_ mix a bunch of beer together. It’ll be great, Kuroo. It’ll taste amazing, Kuroo.”

He opened all the bottles with the bottle opener (even the twist-off ones, which was probably all of them anyways) and began pouring random amounts into the Totoro mug.

“You’re ruining Ghibli’s innocence,” Kenma said, “Why couldn’t you use a cup?”

“We don’t have any.”

“No cups?”

“We never bought any.”

“Cuz all your dumb fucking mugs take up all the fucking cabinet space asshole,” Daishou sloppily said.

“Watch your fucking language.”

“You’re not one to talk, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said.

“My house my rules.”

“Our house,” Bokuto once again corrected.

“Apartment,” Akaashi once again double-corrected. If he could sigh any deeper he would.

Kuroo proudly held up his Totoro mug. It was brimming with a questionable and unidentifiable mixture of various alcohol. “It’s complete. Master mixologist Kuroo Tetsurou strikes again. All of you have to try it.”

Kenma grimaced. “No thanks.”

“You _have_ to.”

“Ooh ooh! I’ll try it first!” Bokuto made grabby hands at the mug, so Kuroo carefully passed it to him. “Yesss…” He sniffed it, made a very worrying face, then brought it to his lips. “Bone app the teeth.”

“It’s _bon appétit_.”

“Um I know what I’m talking about, Akaashi. Scone app the beef.” He took a sip and immediately did a spit take.

“Ew,” Kenma scowled.

“Ugh, seriously, dude?”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Daishou stuttered.

“This _drink_ is fucking disgusting!” Bokuto yelled. He hostilely passed the drink to Akaashi, now both drunk and grumpy.

Akaashi held up his hands, “I’ll pass.”

“You have to try it. Not allowed to pass.” Kuroo smirked.

Akaashi’s eyes went vacant. “You’re a pain in the ass.” He took the mug and stared down at his soulless expression in the dark, merciless liquid. “Take a fucking sip babes,” he murmured.

He swallowed a sip of the awful drink, and as soon as it hit his tastebuds the life drained from his eyes, body, and soul and he stared off into space.

“Here, take it,” he shoved the mug at Daishou without even looking at him.

It took significant amount of time for Daishou to react and successfully take the mug. He looked at the thing in his hands bitterly. “I don’t want this,” he murmured.

“Too bad,” Kuroo replied in a singsong voice.

Daishou looked grimly at the drink, “What’s in it?” he asked.

“Asahi beer and like four other kinds of beer, cherry vodka, regular vodka, and an old V8 that was in the fridge,” Kuroo said smugly, everyone in the room looked at him with various expressions of horror and disgust on their faces. “Oh relax,” Kuroo said in response to their appalled faces.

“Asahi beer…” Bokuto wondered with a weird look on his face that only being drunk could produce, “isn’t that the scary drug dealer from Karasuno?”

“N-no. He’s actually really nice and aaanxious all the time. Shou-you told me about him,” Kenma’s speech was disastrously slurred and dotted with hiccups, partly because he hadn’t stopped crying but mostly because he was, well, drunk.

Daishou looked down at his drink again, looked Kuroo dead in the eyes, took a long swig, and flipped him off. All without breaking eye contact. He was still staring Kuroo in the eyes when he passed the drink to Kenma.

“Okay do you want to fuck me or fight me because I am really confused,” Kuroo finally said.

“Fffuck you,” Daishou said. It took him approximately ten seconds to realize what he said. “W-wait n–” but it was too late as Kuroo was already choking with laughter.

Kenma was still crying as he took the mug from Daishou while Kuroo wheezed on the couch, saying things like ‘so you admit it’ and ‘I never thought your confession would be like this.’

Kenma stared at his reflection in the murky alcohol, tears occasionally falling into Totoro.

“Can’t wake up,” he whispered.

Kenma placed the mug to his lips and started chugging.  

Kuroo lunged at Kenma in an attempt to yank away the mug. “Kenma no!”

Kenma slammed the mug onto the floor, curled up into a ball on the floor, and sang “Wake me up insiiide,” which was punctuated by various hiccups. He then proceeded to softly sing the entirety of what was presumably ‘Welcome to the Black Parade’ until he fell asleep, though it was hard to tell. When he passed out on the floor, Kuroo plugged in his phone and DS and covered him with a blanket.

Everyone slowly began to fall asleep after that. Daishou had passed out face first on the floor and Kuroo had been in his room for about an hour.

“Bokuto I’m telling you it’s _bon appétit_.”

Bokuto had heated up pizza rolls (he almost put them into the oven with the plastic bag still on but Akaashi had sighed and stopped him) and every time he ate one he said something like ‘lone AT&T.’ Akaashi wasn’t even sure if he was joking or not.

“No, Kaashi, its bone parthenogenesis,” Bokuto replied, his speech relatively normal (albeit loud) for someone who had consumed their weight in alcohol.

“How can you even say that while you’re drunk off your ass?” Akaashi turned to look at Bokuto, his words falling on deaf ears as the man was now asleep with his face in a plate of pizza rolls.

Akaashi couldn’t believe he had to deal with this shit while moderately sober. He considered downing the rest of Bokuto’s drink, but decided to save that for more desperate times. He then wheeled over the rolly chair, pulled Bokuto off the floor with great difficulty and into the chair. He then got the Star Wars throw (he sighed) off the back of the couch and threw it over Bokuto. Just then Kuroo came out of his room.

He glanced around the room and sighed. Between everyone there was a whole lot of sighing.

“I wanna go out,” he told Akaashi.

“I’m desperate to get out of here and get some fresh air. I think the smell of alcohol is permanently soaked into your walls,” Akaashi replied, nose scrunched, “I’d like to come with you.”

“Mmmeee toooo,” Daishou suddenly came to life and tried to push himself off the floor. His arms, however, failed him, and he fell onto his face once more.

“No you’re not, you’re more drunk than all of us put together,” Kuroo laughed.

“I haven’t even had a singular alcohol.”

“You tried to do a bottle flip with the swivel chair and almost broke the window.”

Daishou’s eyes lit up, “I love bottle flipping,” he said, grabbing a vodka bottle out of their slowly diminishing pile of alcohol.

“That’s a glass bottle you idiot,” Kuroo smirked as he grabbed Daishou’s wrists and drug him onto the couch, shoving the last remaining blanket onto him.

“Sweet dreams, plantfucker,” Kuroo said to Daishou, who looked like he was already asleep. He turned to Akaashi, “So, Burger King?”

“Why Burger King?”

“I want one of the crowns.”

“Yeah sure, why not.”

“Sweet. I’ll drive–”

“No you’re not,” Akaashi said, “You’ve been drinking.”

“But I haven’t had that much–”

“You’ve had enough to get you charged with DUI if you’re pulled over,” Akaashi took the keys out of Kuroo’s hands.

“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, I think the Burger King is just a couple of blocks down, anyways. We can just walk.”

Akaashi nodded. “Alright.”

“I need those back though,” he nodded at his keys in Akaashi’s hand, “The apartment keys are on there.”

“Oh yeah, right. Here.” He handed them back to Kuroo. They exited Apartment 420 and made their way down the hall. The fluorescent lights inside the quiet apartment building at 1:39AM was extremely surreal, and it wasn’t just from the drinks – any liminal space with artificial lighting late at night was definitely an unsettling place and probably the top rated locations for alien abductions.

Kuroo attempted to go for the stairs but Overprotective Father Akaashi insisted on taking the elevator, which was even more surreal than the hallway as the walls were covered in mirrors and staticy elevator music played faintly from somewhere in the universe.

Nightlife was alive, but apparently just barely according to whichever shitty area of Tokyo they were in. Aside from Kuroo and Akaashi, there were only a few other people out walking around – which was understandable for the middle of the night, but Saturday nights were often first choice for night outs. Akaashi didn’t blame them for not coming to this area, since it wasn’t very exciting anyways. No wonder their apartment was fairly cheap; it was only kind of convenient and the surrounding areas were unappealing. Well, at least there was the decent restaurant across the street and the Burger King down the road.

A few minutes later they arrived at the holy place. It was completely empty aside from a singular employee who sat alone at a booth separate from the rest of the tired employees behind the counter.

“God, I hate this place, but I’m so hungry,” Kuroo said as they walked inside.

“Me too. I’m just gonna get a milkshake or something.” Akaashi replied. The employees didn’t even react when the pair approached the front of the room and looked up at the menu.

“Do they even have milkshakes here?”

Akaashi dragged his hands down his face and slapped his cheeks a little. “Man, I don’t know, probably. Every other fast food place does.”

Luckily there _were_ milkshakes and Akaashi ordered a vanilla. The employees stared at them with tired, empty eyes as they took their orders and it kind of started to creep them out. Though it was understandable, as Kuroo and Akaashi probably looked similar. After all, they had just left their three friends passed out in their apartment because they were so drunk they could probably shit out their brains. However, the employee who sat alone in a booth near the back corner of the building looked like the kind of person who would stab your mother-in-law at a Motel 6 parking at 4:09AM as a sacrifice to satan. They took the seat farthest from that guy.

“Man,” Kuroo sighed, taking a huge bite of his Cheeseburger King Jr™ (‘ _with two crowns, please_ ’). “I wish they had a jukebox here so I could play ‘What’s New Pussycat’ twenty-one times.”

“And a single ‘It’s Not Unusual’, right?” Akaashi added with a sly grin.

Kuroo grinned wider than he ever had in his life. “Yes, and now I love you forever.” He picked up the paper crown that came with his kids meal and placed it carefully on his head, then leaned over the table and placed the other one on Akaashi’s.

“Thanks,” Akaashi tried to suppress his smile as he adjusted the crown. Kuroo was hastily chowing down on his kids meal as if he hadn’t eaten anything for the past 24 hours. Akaashi sipped at his milkshake lazily, resentfully wishing he’d ordered a strawberry rather than a vanilla. There was hardly any noise except for the humming of machinery in the kitchen and Kuroo’s gross chewing noises. The employee who sat in the corner didn’t make any noise.

Akaashi was about to straight up fall asleep with his face halfway in his cup when Kuroo suddenly said, “So, who do you like more: me or Daishou?”

“I don’t feel like answering that question.” Akaashi replied without even pulling his face up from the milkshake.

“Aw, c’mon! You don’t like him more than me, do you?”

“Definitely not.”

“If you actually say you like me more maybe I might even propose to you right here in the middle of this Burger King.”

“As much as you want me to say yes, I do not want you to propose to me.”

Kuroo gasped dramatically. “B-But Keiji-chan–” he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.

“Don’t do that,” Akaashi finally looked up from his cup. Kuroo sighed and took a defeated bite of his burger. “Why do you even want to know, anyways?”

“Because Daishou SUCKS, that’s why,” he yelled through a mouthful of food.

“Euh, say it, don’t spray it, Kuroo-san.”

“And I’m a good person, unlike him. We may be comparable in some ways but he is overall an awful person and the lesser of the two of us.”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re going on about, to be honest. It’s too late for this. If you hate him so much, why are you rooming with him?”

Kuroo slurped up all of his applesauce in one go and slammed it on the table like a shot. “I don’t know. But I don’t like it.”

“You don’t know?” Akaashi questioned.

“We got the apartment and then the next day he was there. And now we can’t get rid of him no matter what we do.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It sucks.”

Akaashi hummed and slid his milkshake to Kuroo. “You want the rest of this?”

“Sure.” He took the milkshake, peered in, and stirred the straw around a bit. He took the little carton of chocolate milk that came with his kids meal and poured it into the milkshake, once again whispering something about being a master mixologist. Silence overtook the Burger King once again as Kuroo dumped half of the remaining contents of the shake into his mouth.

“Why do you hate Daishou so much, anyways?” Akaashi asked.

Kuroo set down the cup and wiped his mouth. “You and I were sitting with the same person earlier tonight, right? Was it not obvious?”

“I… can see where you’re coming from,” Akaashi thought back to his experiences a few hours ago. Aside from getting drunk half an hour into their night, Daishou acted with confidence and seemed a bit full of himself, whether it was completely serious or not Akaashi couldn’t tell – but he did have a good amount of similarities with Kuroo, including how stubborn he could be. However, he had this weird aura around him that couldn’t be described, like everything about him was superficial or untrustworthy. Actually, it was more like he didn’t trust anyone else and was superficial because of it. Akaashi had to admit he got some weird vibes from the guy; like the whole pettiness thing was an act and Daishou was just waiting to fall apart; like crumbling was inevitable. Perhaps it was assuming too much, but Akaashi’s estimates of a person were usually fairly accurate. But still, he had only just met the guy.

“But I feel like you have more reasons to hate him,” Akaashi continued, “I know you’re ‘rivals’, but there must be something behind all that…”

Kuroo’s eyes widened a bit. “Well, you’re not wrong…”

“So I’m right?” Akaashi raised his eyebrows.

Kuroo heaved a sigh and glanced out the window. Every now and then a car raced by and illuminated the dim world outside. A clock by the counter ticked the seconds away.

“I don’t know if you could tell, but we used to be childhood friends.”

“I assumed as much.”

Kuroo went silent again.

“Did something happen?”

He faced the window again as another car went by. The clock by the counter kept ticking. “I guess you could say that.”

Kuroo didn’t say anything else, and Akaashi didn’t prod.

A few second later, Kuroo suddenly swept up all his garbage and stood up. “Well, ready to go back?” Akaashi nodded and stood up with him. They dumped their trash in the trash can and briefly acknowledged the employees on the way out, who didn’t really seem to care.

It was still chilly outside and even cooler at night, so they rushed back to the apartment despite their drowsiness. When they got back, the apartment was just as lousy, gross, and foul-smelling as they’d left it. Bokuto and Kenma hadn’t moved an inch, but Daishou had at some point woken up and attempted (and failed) to get into his room, as he was now collapsed over the coffee table that sat in front of his door.

Kuroo snickered and left him there. _He’s gonna have one hell of a headache tomorrow._

Within two minutes of arriving back home, Akaashi had collapsed onto the couch and fallen asleep. Kuroo took advantage of his unmanageable sleeping habits and spent an hour cleaning up the living room and organizing what was left of the alcohol pile.

Kuroo couldn’t help but smile at the somewhat disastrous scene before him as he stepped over Kenma on his way to his room.

He closed his bedroom door, and his smile faded.

_Akaashi wasn’t wrong._

As he laid down in bed to not-sleep, he couldn’t help but wish things were different. Even with the normalcy and hilarity of the night; it couldn’t hide the fact that the light had gone out behind Kenma’s eyes. No amount of laughter would change Bokuto’s struggles, or how Akaashi wished he was more like other people. Nothing could repair what raged inside Daishou. And Kuroo knew he would never be fixed.

Pain carved out its permanent home, and made itself everyone’s tenant.  

Absolutely nothing would alter the unchangeable. Certainness: that was the pain they bore.

Yes, as Kuroo stared at his ceiling, listening to the soft noises of the apartment, he couldn’t help wishing things were how they used to be.


	7. The Era of Peace is Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have... like no memory of writing this chapter
> 
> -cameron
> 
>  
> 
> im sorry this is such a filler chapter lmfao. things really get Kicking™ in chapter 7 tho, so u have that to look forward to lol
> 
> this chapter is like 700 times longer than it realistically should be and i have no idea what the fuck happened
> 
> -esmae

_ Life is like a hurricane here in Duckberg. Racecars lasers aeroplanes, it’s a duck-blur! Might solve a mystery, or rewrite history! Ducktales! Woo-oo! Every day they’re out there making Ducktales! Woo-oo. Tales of daring do bad and good Luck Tales! D-D-Danger lurks behind you. There’s a– _

“KUROO YOU BASTARD!” Bokuto yelled. Kuroo yelped and was yanked back into his body as Bokuto used all of his weight to knock on the bathroom door.

“Get out of the damn shower! I need to get ready!”

“Wha?! What time is it?” Kuroo called back.

“It’s seven forty-five! My hair is in shambles, Daishou’s stress fucking a plant. Our dog is crying. Get out of the shower for fucks sake!”

“SHIT.” 

There was an extremely loud chorus of bottles banging against the tub, followed by a verse of curses. Kuroo’s thoughts ranged from  _ shit _ to  _ I haven’t even washed my hair yet _ to  _ it takes three minutes to get to the station and fifteen minutes on the train to get to the university and three more minutes to sign in and find the classroom and– _

Nevertheless, he scrambled out of the shower exactly forty-three seconds later and was practically  _ launched _ out the door by Bokuto as soon as he opened it. 

And of course, Daishou was standing  _ right there _ in the hallway smirking at him.

“Is that you, Kuroo? I can hardly recognize you without your atrocious hair. You’re about eight centimeters shorter with it down.”

Kuroo scrunched his nose and tightened the towel around his waist. “This is why I don’t take showers in the mornings…” He grumbled and turned to go to his room.

“You missed a spot!” Daishou called.

Kuroo flipped him off and slammed his bedroom door.

Kuroo muttered angrily to himself about Daishou while he hastily picked out some black jeans and a random shirt to wear. It was a bit warmer outside today so he decided to forgo a jacket. He sighed and attempted to brace himself for the shit show that awaited him both at college and outside his very own bedroom door. 

He stuffed all his (fucking expensive, like fucking christ) textbooks into his backpack and packed up the rest of his school supplies that were scattered over his unruly room. He spied the volleyball brochure he’d grabbed during orientation and glanced it over, the first meeting was in two weeks. He then promptly stuffed it into his backpack to be forgotten until the last minute. 

He considered actually getting somewhat ready, but all his hygiene stuff was left forgotten in an unpacked box as, he (like all the Cool Kids nowadays) had depression and put little to no effort into his appearance anymore. 

Kuroo sighed and with a heavy heart and a heavier backpack exited his peaceful room. 

There was yelling. Kuroo had gotten 1 hour of sleep last night and that had been induced by a crisis; he was not ready for this at eight in the morning two hours after he’d been seriously considering dropping out before college started and living in the mountains with his family of nine chickens, all of which listened non-judgmentally while he complained about his former life and his plant-fucking, asshole roommate.  

He was snapped out of his fantasy by Bokuto’s hoot-like shouts. 

“Bitch jar!” he cried at Daishou. 

“This does not warrant a bitch jarring!” Daishou yelled back. 

“You used my gotdamn toothbrush,” Bokuto said, vibrating angrily. Kuroo was pretty sure that if Bokuto stopped moving at any point in his life he’d die. 

“Because I didn’t have one because  _ you  _ used it for you Rube Goldberg project at three in the morning.”

“That was important okay.”

“Whatever, I’m not putting money in the jar.”

Kuroo jumped into the argument  from across the room, “Bitch jar,” he said with a mouthful of cereal that was probably expired. 

“Using someone’s toothbrush isn’t even bitchy – it’s disgusting! You guys are abusing the jar,” Daishou replied, incredulous. 

“Well, we’re short on rent this month anyways,” Bokuto added. 

“And I have to forgo my six shot white chocolate americano in the morning, because you lazy fucks can’t get a job?”

“Daishou, not that I care, like at all, but that much coffee will kill you,” Kuroo retorted.

Bokuto frowned, “You don’t have a job either….”

“And I’ve had a part time job since like my first year of highschool you absolute fucking moron.”

“Oh my god fine,” Daishou said, angrily stuffing the jar with all the cash that currently resided in his wallet, “Take your dirtily won money and leave. I can’t wait to go to college so I can leave you two behind.”

Bokuto laughed, “Ha, I bet you have to ride the train for two hours because there’s only two colleges nearby.”

“Actually, I go to one that’s like ten minutes away,” Daishou replied smugly. 

Kuroo and Bokuto shared a terrified and knowing glance. 

“Which one?” they asked simultaneously.

“I forgot the name but it’s right next to an abandoned building and a train station.”

Kuroo fell to his knees and almost wept right that moment.  _ Why does god hate me? It’s because I’m gay isn’t it. Damn you. This is panphobia.   _

Daishou looked confused, “Wha...” Then suddenly it clicked, “FUCK,” he yelled loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Kuroo stood up and grabbed his shoulders. 

“What do you major in?” he asked desperately, shaking Daishou by the shoulders. 

Daishou frowned, clearly having to pause and actually think about it. “I, uh, actually don’t know. And get the  _ fuck _ off of me.” He forcefully pushed Kuroo away from him.

“How the fuck can you not know?” Kuroo was holding back tears. 

“Listen, me and my friends got absolutely wasted when the forms were due. I remembered it at last minute and filled it out while I was drunk so, okay?” Daishou finished with a shrug. 

“What friends,” Kuroo said flatly. Daishou resisted the urge to punch him. 

Bokuto started cackling at the situation, “I can’t believe you go to the same college as Daishou.”

“It’s not funny!” Kuroo cried. 

“It’s kind of funny.”

“Eurgh. I just hope I don’t have any classes with you,” Kuroo said as he picked up his backpack and left, already about ten minutes late. He slammed the door behind him.

A few minutes later he arrived at the train station, payed his fare, then slid down into one of the many empty seats. He felt a pang of sadness resonate throughout him. He desperately just wanted to go back to being ten years old again. 

Trains made him miss Kenma. A lot. 

Trains made him yearn for the childhood wonderment that he lacked now. When he was younger, riding buses and trains with Kenma made him feel as though he could conquer the world. Now they just reminded him of the drone of daily life, the childhood he could never go back to. 

He had a car, but he hated driving.  _ Oh well,  _ he thought to himself, but he wasn’t sure what it was relative to. 

The rest of the morning went fairly smoothly. The train was early so he wasn’t as late as he thought he was going to be. He found a nice coffee cart outside the building ran by a cute barista. 

_ Maybe I won’t see Daishou at all,  _ he thought. 

But of course when he settles into one of the only available seats, content with the thought he might not run into Daishou, the motherfucker himself walks in. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he says to the professor, who waves him to sit down. The perpetual smirk that he always wears is plastered onto his face. The whole thing makes Kuroo want to punch the grin right off his face.  

In that moment Kuroo developed a plan. If Daishou had to antagonize him with his presence  _ in the first class of the day  _ then Kuroo would have to antagonize him as well. 

**_> > to filthy filthy plantfucker:_** i spy with my little eye a plantfucker

And now; Kuroo waited. If he was a fly he would’ve rubbed his filthy little fly hands together. 

**_> from filthy filthy plantfucker:_** i fucking hate you im gonna kick ur ass all the way back to the zoo you came from when i see you

**_> >to filthy filthy plantfucker: _ ** introducing me to the parents so soon?

**_> from filthy filthy plantfucker: _ ** where are you so i can kick yourass 

**_> >to filthy filthy plantfucker:_ ** im about two rows behind you

Kuroo eagerly watched as Daishou turned and looked around like a stupid fucking bitch.

**_> >to filthy filthy plantfucker:_ ** haha made you look

**_> >to filthy filthy plantfucker:_ ** im in the back

**_> from filthy filthy plantfucker:_ ** fuck you

**_> >to filthy filthy plantfucker: _ ** look behind you 

Daishou once more glanced around behind him like a dumb bitch. When he locked eyes with Kuroo he scowled deeper than the fucking Marianas Trench. Kuroo promptly flipped him off and grinned. Daishou dragged his hands down his face so violently he looked like the goddamn Babadook. 

The professor cleared his throat from the front of the class, signalling class was about to begin, but Kuroo wasn’t busy paying attention as he was sending Daishou every possible plant emoji. He continued to not pay attention through the entire class. And neither did Daishou. 

**_> from kinky cat daddy: _ ** how did u even get into a class this advanced lmfaooo 

Daishou looked back and glared at Kuroo, which was useless, as he was immersed in his phone. 

**_> >to kinky cat daddy: _ ** i was in college prep courses you absolute fuckign walnut

**_> from kinky cat daddy: _ ** rood

**_> from kinky cat daddy: _ ** if anything i am a pecan

**_> from kinky cat daddy: _ ** haha 

**_> >to kinky cat daddy: _ ** what 

**_> from kinky cat daddy: _ ** i just remered u fuck plants 

**_> >to kinky cat daddy: _ ** remered 

**_> from kinky cat daddy: _ ** only friends can make fun of my typos 

**_> >to kinky cat daddy: _ ** that doesnt even make sense  ****

The teacher coughed and out of pure highschool instinct Daishou scrambled to put his phone away; and almost fell out of his seat. He could practically feel Kuroo laughing at him. So of course, he turned his head and there was Kuroo silently cackling. Just as Daishou decided to flip him off, a cute girl looked in his general direction. Daishou desperately tried to stop himself, but it was too late, the damage had been done. The girl looked relatively unfazed, probably too exhausted to care, but Kuroo was laughing his ass off (and getting a few weird looks, to Daishou’s delight). Daishou knew he would be forever tormented for this.

**_> >to kinky cat daddy: _ ** i can never win can i

**_> from kinky cat daddy: _ ** not all of us can be born winners like me

They both managed to spend about half an hour of class relatively undisturbed by the other, until…

**_(GamePigeon Notification from kinky cat daddy)_ **

**_> >to kinky cat daddy: _ ** are you seriously inviting me to a game of battleship in the middle of the first math lecture

**_> from kinky cat daddy: _ ** yes. its your move asshole.

_ Oh, it’s on like motherfucking Donkey-Kong. I’ll show that bastard,  _ Daishou thought as he settled into a game of battleship, abandoning class completely. 

 

After math class ended, Kuroo didn’t see Daishou at all at school, thank  _ god, _ and the day went by fairly quickly. Kuroo was just trying to take in the general calmness of the first week of school before the giant shitstorm of stress that was college would kick in.

Except just being at his  _ own goddamn apartment _ was a shitstorm of stress, and now that university’s started it seems it’ll just amplify. And to prove his hypothesis….

Kuroo got home and there was a dog in his living room.

He dropped his keys and frantically looked around the apartment. “Uh… Bokuto?” Kuroo called. Bokuto emerged from the hallway with a smoothie in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“What’s that?”

He glanced at the smoothie in his hand. “Strawberry banana.”

“No!” Kuroo yelled, “The  _ dog!” _

“Oh, shiba inu.”

Kuroo pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, you’re so annoying,” he muttered.  _ “Why _ is it  _ here?” _

“I found him on the side of the road on the way home!” Bokuto said. He handed Kuroo his smoothie and threw himself down onto the floor. “Look at his little feet! It’s like he’s wearing socks!!” He gave the dog a vigorous belly rub and cooed  _ Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?? You are!  _ at the dog. It wagged its tail and licked Bokuto’s face.

Kuroo fought to keep the grin off his face because honestly,  _ he fucking loved dogs.  _ But if Bokuto is a legal adult that can’t actually  _ be _ a legal adult, Kuroo needs to put on his motherfucking Big Boy Pants.

“Bokuto, you do realize that pets aren’t allowed in the building, right?”

Bokuto scowled. “Then how come Daishou can have a snake?  _ Hmm??” _ He had a smug look on his face like it was the most clever argument in the world.

“That’s because it’s – at least,  _ supposed  _ – to stay in a terrarium, and cages, terrariums, and tanks are allowed. But not larger pets that have to be taken out and have the potential to make a mess, which includes dogs, Bokuto.”

“But… but I already named him Yakiniku….” Bokuto sniffed.

“You named him after  _ barbecue?” _

“It’s my favorite food and he is my favorite dog!” Bokuto defended. “He is… toasty… like grilled meat…” Bokuto fondly pet the dog, eyes glimmering with pensiveness.

“You… you know we can’t keep him, Bokuto,” Kuroo said.  _ Oh, you’re really pulling at my heartstrings, you son of a gun. _

“I bought dog food on the way home though!”

_ Fuck. _

Kuroo inhaled deeply and went to his room to dispose of his thousand-pound backpack, pulling his phone out on the way. He dialed Akaashi.

“What did Bokuto do this time? Is it really that bad that you needed to call me?” Akaashi answered without even saying hello.

“Your weird vibrating-owl man baby snuck a dog into our apartment and it’s only the first day of school.” Kuroo said.

“Oh geez.”

“He named it Yakiniku.”

_ “Oh geez.” _

“Please tell me you’ll talk to him,” Kuroo begged, making his way back to the living room.

“Can’t you do it yourself?”

“He already bought dog food, Akaashi.”

“...Okay, I’ll talk to him,” Akaashi said, then promptly hung up without saying goodbye. 

Kuroo sighed, looked at the dog and whispered, “You motherfucker.” Bokuto unfortunately heard him.

“He can hear you!” Bokuto cried and covered the dog’s ears as though Kuroo had just pissed on his mother’s grave. 

Kuroo decided to not even justify that with a response and instead said, “I need a nap,” and headed back to his room to sleep. 

He could hear Bokuto’s phone ring from the other room, and was kept awake by his sad dejected yells. 

The next day, however, Bokuto was over the dog. Mostly because he had bought a fish after letting the dog go. 

“You bought a fucking fish? Are you kidding me? We just had the pet discussion,” Kuroo pinched the bridge of his nose. He pinched the bridge of his nose so often, one of these days it was going to fall off. 

“You just said it had to be in a tank! Besides the lady at the pet store told me they can’t be kept in unfiltered bowls, so I bought him a three gallon tank with a filter already! You’ve got to let me keep him,” Bokuto pouted. 

“Fine okay, whatever. I give up,” Kuroo sighed. He hesitated, “Did you get it a heater and water cleanser and food and all that shit?” he added, remembering his beloved betta from his childhood ( _ Sleep well, Magikarp) _ . 

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Kuroo was somewhat relieved. At least this would be the end of pets. 

It wasn’t. 

Bokuto had picked up the habit of feeding pigeons on the fire escape out of one of Kuroo’s mugs. To be specific, a K-Pop mug he’d stolen from his ex-boyfriend out of spite. He loved that mug dearly. 

“Bokuto, pigeons are nasty and carry diseases. You’re getting diseases on my mug,” Kuroo complained, as one of the pigeons perched on the edge of his mug, eating birdseed.

“Um,  _ you _ have diseases Kuroo, fuck off.”

Kuroo went back to watching whatever pointless news was on. His mind eventually slipped into boredom as he stared blankly at the TV, basically unaware that he was even alive. 

Unfortunately he was snapped out of his disassociation by Bokuto yelling.

“Kuroo! Look!”

Kuroo glanced up at whatever Bokuto was doing, uninterested. 

There, sat on the edge of his spite mug, was a pigeon. That however was not the most surprising thing. The most surprising thing was fact that Bokuto was holding the mug and said Bokuto was inside the apartment. 

There was a pigeon in his apartment. 

A pigeon. In his apartment. 

He was about to calmly ask Bokuto to remove the pigeon, when the pigeon seemed to realize it was indoors, panicked, and launched itself off the mug.

Kuroo screamed. 

All this screaming was doing wonders for his skin. 

Now is a convenient time to mention that as a child Daishou was nicknamed “Bad Timing Suguru” by his mothers, because just then Daishou waltzed into the apartment.

“Guys, I think my major might be engi–” he stopped mid-sentence. He first noticed Kuroo’s distressed yelling, then looked up and saw an even more distressed bird flying against the ceiling. He left.

After they managed to get the pigeon out of the apartment, the drama seemed to decrease. Bokuto continued to feed pigeons, however, much to Kuroo’s dissatisfaction and anxiety.

“Fine,” Kuroo said, “just use a different mug.”

In fact, the only drama around the apartment was Daishou’s fucked up major. Not that it was even drama, it just got fucking annoying. That’s how boring the next couple of weeks were.

“Maybe it’s sociology,” he said one day. 

“Wait, I think it’s biology?”

“It’s probably psychology actually, that’s what I wanted to major in anyways.”

Another day, he came home and said, “Actually, it might be literature…” ( _ You’re just fucking with us now, _ Kuroo had replied).

Twice a week Daishou came home with a different theory on what his major was. Until one fateful day… 

“Okay, fine! I give up! I admit it! I have no freaking clue what my major is!” Daishou slammed the door behind him.

“What are you talking about?” Kuroo asked. He was sitting at their weird little bar at the end of the kitchen eating some takeout bento box that looked like it came from the two-star restaurant across the street. Daishou trudged to the living room and dropped his bag onto the couch.

“Alright, so I have this class that I had no idea what it was until today,” he took a deep breath, “apparently it’s gay and lesbian studies.”

“Hah!” Bokuto laughed, apparently only tuning into the conversation for that one line, as he was sitting on the floor at the coffee table staring at his fish, who he’d named Ponyo. 

“That’s probably your major then,” Kuroo guessed. He shoveled a huge spoonful of rice into his mouth, clearly uninterested. “By the way, did you get the math notes from yesterday?”

“Dude I was kicking your ass at battleship the entire time, do you  _ think _ I got the math notes?”

“Irrelevant. Anyways, I’m pretty sure our uni offers it as a major. And since most of your other classes are basics you have to take your first year, gay and lesbian studies is probably your major.”

“Oh my god. I’m supposed to be a psychology major I can’t believe this, what the fuck am I going to tell them when I change my major,  _ yeah sorry I was absolutely shit-faced and chose the most appealing option to drunk me,” _ Daishou buried his face so deep in his hands that even god couldn’t see his sinner ways.

“Don’t drop the class, you might ruin your only chance to get a boyfriend,” Kuroo mocked.

“Or a girlfriend,” Bokuto added.

“That too, but they never seem to stick around that long, do they?” Kuroo replied. He smirked at Daishou, who was glaring daggers. 

“Fuck you, can’t you see I’m in distress?”

“Yeah, but I don’t care.”

Daishou scowled, then left to his room. Kuroo grinned and took a victory bite of his food.

“You care,” Bokuto said suddenly. 

“What?”

Bokuto shrugged and continued staring at his betta. 

The next day during one of his free blocks, Kuroo was still grinning because he finally beat Daishou at battleship during math that morning. He was about to leave for lunch when he suddenly remembered the volleyball meeting. 

_ Shit, I’m gonna be late,  _ he realized. He took off and sprinted across campus to where one of the gyms was. He burst in through the doors, apologized to his new coach and captain for being late, and was heading to the locker rooms to change when out of the corner of his eye he saw green hair that was all too familiar. 

_ Please oh god no, I’ll do anything.  _ His prayers, however, went unanswered, because as his new green-haired teammate turned around, he recognized it wasn’t just any green-haired teammate, it was fucking Daishou.

“Fuck,” he said, rather loudly, getting him a few weird looks. Daishou smirked at him, a glare resting behind his calm eyes. Kuroo glared back. 

No matter what happened, they knew it was going to be a hard school year for both of them. 


	8. Millennials Are Killing The Sitcom Industry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all the comments and positive feedback we're getting omg!!!!! we love it and it's Validating and we appreciate it so much! we love yall!!  
> um?? i guess things sorta start Kicking™ in this chapter? this chapter was amazing in theory but something happened in the execution process it took us like 87 years to edit it so..  
> YEAH hope you enjoy this one!!
> 
> \- cameron

Bokuto had loved his fish dearly. Sure it had only lived for a few weeks, but he gave that fish the best damn few weeks it ever saw. When he wasn't staring at it or playing it with, he was buying it (ridiculously expensive) decor for its tank. He cleaned the tank weekly, fed the fish daily (when he remembered, which wasn’t often), and renamed it almost every other day. A few of the best being Aqua Bob Squarepants, The Amazing Dace, Floater, Chips, Puff Daddy, Moby Haha DICK, and Garfield.

He honestly took the best care of the fish when he could, so it really was a shock when it died. And its death set off a terrible chain of events.

Bokuto, of course, insisted on holding a funeral for the fish. He also refused to flush it.

"Bokuto," Daishou said, rubbing his sleep-crusted face, "You should just flush the betta. He'll go to the… uh, fish graves. Where he belongs."

"How could you _disrespect the dead_ like that?!"

"It's a fish," Kuroo supplied, voice layered with exhaust. For some reason Bokuto had woken up at six in the morning (as he often seems to do, the madman) and found the fish dead. Kuroo, who had been suffering a particularly bad bout of insomnia, had been woken from his one hour of fitful sleep by his friend’s distressed yells. He’d screamed like there’d been a murder in their very own home and woken up everyone inside and around Apartment 420. So now they were all up at 6 AM discussing the semantics of a fish funeral.

"Kenma and Akaashi have to come, too," Bokuto said, ignoring their protests against burying the fish in the lot.

"Kenma won't come," Kuroo said.

"Just tell him it's Daishou's birthday or something."

"He knows when Daishou's birthday is."

"How does he know when Daishou's birthday is?" Bokuto asked, confused. Kuroo and Daishou shared a quick look, Kuroo shrugged.

Bokuto accepted this as an answer and simply said, "Well make something else up."

"And _lie_ to _Kenma?"_ Kuroo replied, faking offense.

"You lie to Kenma all the time," Bokuto said.

"About?"

Bokuto simply raised an eyebrow, Kuroo became very interested in his feet.

"Fine, I'll get Kenma to come to your stupid fish funeral."

Bokuto gasped, "It's not stupid! It's the least you all can do for Captain Jack."

"I thought his name was Wishiwashi," Kuroo said.

"I thought his name was Dr. Sturgeon," Daishou added.

Bokuto sighed solemnly, "He was Captain Jack in the end."

And that was how they all ended up in an elevator at seven in the morning with a toy shovel and a dead fish.

Kenma tugged on Kuroo's sleeve, "I thought we were playing video games. You promised me Overwatch." He whispered.

"I lied."

"You’re a disgusting little man." Kenma replied. Kuroo just laughed fondly and said ‘ _I know’._

Daishou seethed behind them. _Oh, so he can call him a little man, but as soon as I call him a little shit he becomes a smartass and brags about his height._

Suddenly, as if provoked by Daishou’s salt, the elevator stuttered and the lights flickered. Then, the elevator stopped with a jerk. Assuming someone on the third floor pushed the elevator button, they waited for the doors to open. They didn't. They waited for a few more seconds.

"What the fuck?" Daishou said more than asked, his voice desperate and disbelieving.

"Oh _hell_ no," Kuroo hissed, repeatedly jamming the “open door” button on the elevator panel. When that proved to be useless, he attempted to pry the doors open; he had not a shot in hell but that didn't stop him from trying.

All of a sudden, the lights blinked off and an tiny emergency light ominously lit up the small elevator.

“Ah! Look what you did!” Bokuto yelled.

Kuroo jumped away from the doors. “That wasn’t me!”

“Calm down,” Akaashi instructed like the grown, responsible adult trapped in a teenager’s body that he was. “Does this building have a generator?”

“I dunno, probably not ‘cuz it’s outdated and cheap.” Kuroo said. He hopelessly attempted to press the “open door” button again.

“Hit the phone button,” Kenma suggested, pointing to one of the red buttons on the panel. Kuroo pressed it and waited with wide eyes for some sort of noise or response or anything – but nothing happened.

They stood there in stunned silence for a few minutes before Kenma finally slid down the wall, took out his DS from his hoodie, and started playing what was presumably Pokémon.

“Oh my god we’re gonna DIE.” Bokuto shouted, dropping to his knees dramatically.

“No we’re not,” Akaashi said, “Just stay calm.”

"I'll call the landlord," Daishou said suddenly, pulling out his phone. The rest of them eventually sat down and began to screw around on their phones. Daishou started to pace the length of the elevator (which was only about one step each direction).

When the landlord finally picked up he told Daishou that the power was out for the whole block, and it would presumably be awhile before it could be fixed.

“At least, that’s what he was told.”

“What do you mean, _told?”_ Kuroo narrowed his eyes.

Daishou defeatedly dropped his arms. “He’s like, two hours away out golfing or something.”

“So you mean he’s not even _here?”_ Akaashi asked.

Daishou just shrugged, “Guess not.” He then sat down and said, "I can't believe I'm stuck in a fucking elevator with a dead fish."

"I can't believe I'm stuck in an elevator with an ugly ass snake," Kuroo snapped.

"Was that really necessary?"

"Yep."

A spell of agitated silence fell over the cramped elevator. The only noise was Kenma tapping on his DS and the occasional sighs.

Suddenly Bokuto burst out with a "Hey guys–" but he was cut off quickly with a series of groans.

"You can't seriously be Vining right now, Bokuto," Kuroo said, pinching his nose.

"We're stuck in a motherfucking elevator," Kenma deadpanned.

The previous six seconds were caught on video and the last few lines of dialogue were immortalized and infinitely looped. Bokuto posted the video without a second thought. "Yeah! It's like our own personal bottle episode."

"How do you always manage to look on the bright-side?" Akaashi asked, yet a small smile graced his face.

As the rest of their group established small chatter, Daishou looked up and noticed a small security camera in the corner of the elevator. He tried to shake it off but it bothered him; sitting annoyingly in the back of his mind. Daishou eventually managed to distract himself with his phone but still the camera itched at his brain and took over his peripheral vision.

The following hour was hell. Daishou's mind flickered with annoyance and paranoia at every word uttered. He was overthinking everything, connecting it with something completely unrelated, until his brain was tangled with frustration. Daishou continued to scroll through his phone but his vision was blurred and his senses dulled until he was completely absorbed in his head.

The soft sounds of Bokuto and Akaashi talking and laughing could be heard through his daze.

"Could you two shut the fuck up and stop flirting," he snapped suddenly, voice dripping with venom, not even realizing it until the words were out of his mouth.

Bokuto was too shocked to be embarrassed and even Akaashi seemed a little offended, but Daishou was too bothered to regret it.

Nobody said anything for about thirty minutes. A deep tired silence gripped the tiny room, but Daishou's head was screaming.

The fragile hold they had on peace went to shit when Kenma took out his sketchbook.

"You should draw me," Kuroo jokingly suggested to Kenma, breaking the silence.

"Okay."

"Wait really?"

"Sure," there were a few seconds of Kenma's pencil scratching against paper, he then presented a poorly drawn dick to Kuroo.

"Um, rude," Kuroo said, feigning offence.

"I was tricked into going to a fish funeral and now I'm stuck in an elevator," Kenma replied flatly, "I honestly just can't believe I wasted paper on you."

"You're gonna make me cry, Kenma," Kuroo said, though was laughing. That laughter sent jolts up Daishou's spine.

A few seconds of contentedness fell over the group.

Daishou glanced feverishly up at the camera. _They can see it,_ his paranoia-wracked mind whispered at him, _They’re watching, They can see you._

The words echoed over and over again in his brain until they consumed his entire body. Before he knew it he’d stood up, his body and mind working in tandem against him. He marched across the elevator, pulled his arm back, and swung hard at the small camera in the corner, barely reaching it.

The pain passed through his busy head and he barely felt it. He hit again; it did nothing.

Everyone else in the elevator immediately started screaming.

“Whoa, what the FUCK?” Bokuto yelled, followed by Kenma’s _Ugh, seriously?_

 _“Why_ are you punching the camera?” Akaashi asked in his voice that was _usually_ reserved for Bokuto’s antics.

 _“They can see all of us,”_ Daishou seethed, outraged that no one else saw the problem. He pointed at the camera behind him for emphasis.

“Dude, it doesn’t work anyways, the power went out!” Kuroo yelled back.

“You don’t know that, those emergency lights came on!” Daishou snapped back, looking absolutely unhinged.

“Suguru, you need to calm down.”

The use of his first name made him flinch. “Would you shut the fuck up you pathetic, rambling, overrated scene kid,” Daishou snarled, contempt filling his face.

Kuroo scoffed, “I’m not the one who’s rambling.”

“I’m not the one who left!” Daishou screamed; outrage filled and overflowed. He said it louder than intended and all eyes in the small room turned to him. Bokuto and Akaashi were obviously confused, Kenma just looked anxious, but Kuroo was staring at him intensely. He looked wistful, and somewhat sad. There was the reminiscence of a fire behind Kuroo’s eyes, a fire that had died; nothing left but hopeless, gray ashes.

The flash of nostalgia was over in an instant, and Daishou could feel the emotion that had risen up die down. Yet everyone still stared.  

Daishou didn’t like everyone’s eyes on him. He could feel them prying into his soul, tearing away this careful exterior he built. People looking at him made every cell in his body race with fear. He was shaking with panic now; panic and rage. Everything was telling him to run, but there was nowhere to run to. He was trapped in a room with something he feared but didn’t understand.   

He pulled his arm back again to give the lens another blow, but something caught his hand. Daishou glanced back and saw Kuroo gripping his wrist.

"Daishou," he said, eyes locked onto Daishou's, seeing the storm of fear that raged behind them. “Calm down, it’s okay.”

“We’re stuck in a _tiny death capsule_ and you’re telling me to _calm down?”_ Daishou yelled. He yanked his fist out of Kuroo’s hold.

“Suguru,” Kuroo breathed, almost in a plead. His eyes bore into Daishou’s. “The fact that we’re stuck in here is exactly why you _need_ to calm down. You can’t start doing this now.”

Daishou exhaled, slow and jagged. He tried to focus on what was real and around him. The stable floor beneath his feat, the quiet sounds of everyone nervously shifting around. He tried to focus on Kuroo. He took a breath, steadier this time. _I’ll be okay,_ he told himself, though didn’t quite believe it.

“You must be at least level seven friend to unlock my tragic backstory,” he blurted out suddenly.  

The corner of Kuroo’s mouth twitched upward and he let go of his breath, huffing a gentle laugh. Suddenly, everything was kind of okay.

"Dick," Kuroo replied, smiling.

They both sat back down and a collective eyebrow raise passed over the elevator.

Hour three passed with relative ease, the only annoyance being Bokuto Vining.

"This is my friend Kenma! Show them what you're drawing," he said, training the camera on Kenma.

"I swear to god I will take off my sweaty binder and choke you with it."

Kenma, being an individual who almost never liked interacting with Bokuto for obvious reasons, had a very special talent in which he knew exactly what to say to shut him up.

A few minutes later, Bokuto pulled out his phone again and asked, “Hey! Who wants to practice _kabedon_ -ing with me?”

“Is this for a Vine?” Akaashi asked.

“...Maybe.”

“No,” everyone said simultaneously. Bokuto visibly deflated.

After a bit, they all began to talk quietly and made jokes, and the discomfort that had filled Daishou's mind slowly left. At one point Kuroo blared 'Kazoo Kid Trap Remix' and Daishou even laughed. Bokuto then did a dramatic reenactment of  'Never Gonna Give You Up.' He kept trying to dance and falling into the sides of the elevator.

However by the fourth hour, everyone had lost their meme spirit; Akaashi had even fallen asleep.  

Bokuto giggled and pulled out his phone again, ready to record. He started messing with Akaashi’s hair and arms, all while making random commentary.

Kenma poked Bokuto in the shoulder. “Bokuto, stop, you’re gonna wake him…” He said.

“Haha, nah, it’s alright. One morning before practice he fell asleep on the front step of the gym and no matter what we did he didn’t wake up,” Bokuto said, continuing to wave Akaashi’s limp arms around.

“I think he’s straight up dead,” Daishou said. He crawled over to where the pair sat. “Hey, lemme draw on him–”

Bokuto slapped his hand away. “No, dick, only I can do that.”

 _“Jeez,_ okay…”

A while passed before anything more happened. Bokuto continued to bother Akaashi while he slept. Daishou still seemed a little upset but he had calmed down and made assholeish comments every now and then. Kenma remained quiet but continued to pull various games and gaming consoles out of the pockets of his sweatpants.

He started playing Pokemon Moon on his DS, then cycled through Majora’s Mask, Animal Crossing, Pokemon X, and Super Smash Bros. Kenma ignored the flashing red light but still got upset when his DS died in the middle of a match. He complained for a few minutes, but quickly got over it and took out his sketchbook. He did a few sketches, got bored, then retrieved a Game Boy out of his pocket and played Mario Party on that until it died. Next he pulled out a PSP, which was already half dead, and played on that until that died.

This had gotten Kenma quite a few weird looks but Kuroo was acting as this was all perfectly normal.

“Are you finally done?” Akaashi whispered once the PSP had died, apparently awake.

“Hm?” Kenma said, already immersed in playing Deemo on his phone.

“You have so many,” Akaashi replied, gesturing to the pile of dead consoles.

“Well, I have my laptop in my bag so I can always play on that if my phone dies.”

“Holy shit.”

“This isn’t even half of it,” Kuroo laughed. “Did you bring a Wii U, too?”

“No, a PS4.”

Kuroo started making his ugly hyena cackling.

“You brought all this to a fish funeral?” Daishou asked.

 _“I was promised video games,”_ Kenma seethed. He kicked Kuroo’s leg, which brought his wheezing laughter to a halt. He brought his knees up to his chin and immersed himself back into Deemo.

After all of Kenma’s devices finally died, silence filled the elevator. Akaashi fell asleep again. Everyone tapped away on their phones, batteries dangerously low. Kenma sketched, his brain constantly itching for a distraction.

"Guys," Bokuto said, breaking the comfortable quiet, voice oddly serious.

"What."

"I have to pee. Like really badly."

"No you fucking don't," Kuroo answered.

“Oh my god.”

"Here," Daishou said, grabbing Kuroo's empty water bottle and handing it to him.

Kuroo’s sense of panic went from 0 to 100 in .2 seconds. “Bokuto do NOT–”

"Bokuto, no, please don’t," Kenma complained.

"Do it Bokuto," Daishou snickered.

Bokuto made a grab for the water bottle but Kuroo snatched it out of Daishou's hand.

"Dude you weren't actually going to pee in my water bottle, right?"

"H-Hah, Haha, o-of course not," Bokuto stammered.

"I can't believe you."

Five minutes passed before Bokuto brought it up again, "I’m serious though, I really have to pee."

Everyone groaned loudly, jolting Akaashi from his sleep.

"What's going on?" he asked, glancing around as though he expected someone to be dead. “Why are we still here.”

"Bokuto has to pee."

Akaashi looked seriously at Bokuto, "No you don't," he deadpanned.

Bokuto whined, but the issue was resolved by him deciding to hold it indefinitely. _I have a bladder of steel,_ he’d proclaimed with great confidence.

It had been about six hours into their bottle episode when Bokuto began to shake his leg. Loudly. It was understandable really; you lock someone with ADHD in a small room with only one thing to do and they're probably going to get bored and stim.

"SHIT," Bokuto yelled.

"What is it this time?" Akaashi sighed.

"I just remembered forgot to take my meds this morning."

"You forget to take your meds basically every morning," Kuroo commented.

"Well it's not everyday I get locked in a tiny room with a bunch of people and – oh my god guys what if we run out of air?"

"We're not gonna run out of air," chided Akaashi.  

Kenma looked up from his sketchbook, glancing around nervously, "Wait, are you sure?"

"Guys, we are not going to run out of air."

A few minutes passed when Bokuto stood up and began to walk around, which was hard as the elevator was tiny and filled with people with their legs outstretched.

Kenma suddenly sat bolt upright from his position of leaning on Kuroo, "Shit guys what if the elevator falls?" He said a bit louder than he intended.

"It's been stuck like this for six hours," Akaashi said flatly, obviously tired. He’d been attempting to nod back to sleep but at this point it was basically impossible.

"It's gonna fall, oh my god we’re all gonna die," Kenma ignored him. Daishou then jumped up and tried to pry open the doors, eventually giving up and sliding face-first down the doors.

"I'm gonna punch the camera again."

"It doesn't even work, the power's _still_ out," Kuroo pointed out.  

Daishou then had a realization: "Guys if the lights came on why isn't the elevator working. What if they're _trying_ to kill us and the elevator falls."

Akaashi looked up to the ceiling like a silent prayer. "I wish they would just kill us already," he sighed.

Daishou pounded weakly on the doors.

"With you guys jumping around so much I wouldn't be surprised if it actually fell," Kuroo said, annoyed and tired. He could feel another migraine slowly infecting his head and was kind of with Akaashi on this one.

"Oh my god," Kenma said softly in a 'what the fuck' tone of voice.

Daishou screamed at a moderate volume.

"OHHH MY GODDD IT'S LIKE THE TOWER OF TERROR," Bokuto screeched, either excited or terrified – it was hard to tell.  

Everyone started screaming in harmony with Bokuto, while Kuroo just snickered and Akaashi closed his eyes in silent exhaustion.

"Please don't kill me, I'm better than everyone else in here," Daishou yelled through the crack in the doors.

"Please kill me, I’ve had enough of this," Akaashi whispered.

Daishou looked defeated, "Kuroo. I leave you my snake."

"I don't want no dusty ass snake," Kuroo quipped in response.

“Is that fear I hear underneath your smartassery?”

Kuroo turned to look at Daishou with wide eyes. “Fuck. Off,” he seethed through clenched teeth.

"We're all gonna die. We pissed off god by being gay and living in sin," Kenma said, pulling his hoodie out to hide his face in the collar.

"At least I get to die gay," Kuroo laughed, despair surrounding his words.

"And single," Kenma added.

"Rude."

"This elevator is homophobic because I'm gay and it's inconveniencing me," Akaashi chimed in. Everyone laughed and was silent for a few seconds.

Bokuto was tearing up in the corner, "At least," he said, choking, "I get to d-die surrounded by my f-friends!”

"Chill," Daishou replied, "You're only a level three friend."

"What am I?" Kuroo asked.

"Annoying."

Kuroo glared at him.

They spent the following hour discussing their wills.

"I'm leaving all my coffee mugs to Kenma."

"Keep 'em."

Kuroo ignored this, "Except the cat one, bury that one with me."

"Bro, what about me," Bokuto asked, offended.

"You can have that bowl with the straw built into it."

"That was already mine, you just stole it from me."

"Really?" Kuroo said, "Hm."

"Yeah, you know I hate using spoons."

"I still don't understand that."

"I'm leaving all my possessions and money to the man that kills me," Daishou said.

"You're really going to leave all your things to a _homophobic elevator?"_

"Yes."

"None of you get any of my things," Kenma said bitterly.

"Damn who passed the salt," Kuroo snorted.

"You when you tricked me into going to a fish funeral and got us stuck in an elevator," Kenma snapped.

“Bokuto’s the one that told me to lie to you!” Kuroo defended.

Bokuto, after he realized the blame was passed to him faster than Sonic the Hedgehog’s lightning fast ejaculate, looked around wildly in search of someone else to pin the blame on. “Daishou’s the one that insisted we take the elevator instead of the stairs!”

All heads turned to look at Daishou. "Okay... I didn't get us stuck in the elevator,” he tried, “The murderers who are slowly torturing us by prolonging our deaths did."

"They're probably trying to kill you for bein' a lil' bitch." Kuroo sneered.

"But we all know _you’re_ the real asshole of this elevator."

"I can't wait until this elevator falls and we all die," Kenma groaned.

Suddenly, the elevator started moving.

"HOLY SHIT YOU CURSED US," Bokuto screamed.

"If the elevator was actually falling we'd be dead by now," Akaashi corrected.

"Wait so you mean–?"

"FREEDOM!” Bokuto hooted, cutting Kuroo off. “I CAN FINALLY PEE YOU GUYS!"

When the elevator dinged and the doors opened they all almost cried.

After eight hours of being stuck in a motherfucking elevator a fish funeral seemed less ridiculous and more like freedom.

And at this point, Bokuto was more concerned with his Emergency Bladder Evacuation than finding a more dignified place to bury his fish than the gross lot behind their apartment. They found a place to bury the fish, but it was of course complicated by Daishou.

They were preparing to dig a little hole for the fish to reside in. Bokuto pulled out the fish from the bag and held its bare, lifeless body in the palm of his hand.

“Ew, you’re just gonna hold it like that?” Kenma scrunched his nose.

"Haha, hey can I hold it?" Daishou asked Bokuto. Bokuto seemed happy with Daishou’s eagerness to finally give his pet attention and plopped the betta into Daishou’s hand.

Daishou examined the dead creature, then suddenly entrapped it inside his fist and _chucked_ it halfway across the lot.

Bokuto _screamed._ “DUDE! THE FUCK?”

"I spent eight hours in an elevator because of that thing!" Daishou complained.

Bokuto wordlessly stood up and walked towards Daishou, "HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT CAPTAIN JACK LIKE THAT," he howled. “I’MMMMM GONNA BEAT THE _SHIT_ OUTTA YOU!” Bokuto bolted towards Daishou before Akaashi even had a chance to hold him back (unfortunately for Daishou). Daishou was running now with a _very_ emotional Bokuto on his tail, screaming in fear.

Bokuto continued to chase Daishou around the empty plot of land for about two minutes until he managed to catch up and shove him to the ground. He then retrieved the fish and they all held the ceremony.

"And now," Kuroo said, "a moment of silence."

Bokuto started crying.

"It's okay, you can get another fish."

"It's not that," Bokuto sniffed, "It's just that I can barely remember to take my meds, and I can't focus on anything important... I just, how am I gonna pull this off, being an adult? I can't even keep a fucking fish alive," he snapped, voice quivering, "I just wish my brain wasn't like this. I'm just really stressed out," Bokuto finally divulged just a fraction of the thoughts that’d been swarming his mind all day, all while trying too hard to distract himself and feeling like he’d dragged everyone down with him in the process.

"It's okay," Akaashi said, leaning into Bokuto. “We’re here to support you.”

"I know... I'm just a little sad."

"I think we all are," Kuroo confessed.

"Yeah, I guess we are."

They were all silent for a moment, stewing silently in their own pain. They were all a little sad, but at least they weren't alone in that sadness.

"Let's all go get some food and drinks," Daishou said, "I think we all deserve that after today.”

"I gotta pee first."

"You held it for six hours, I think you can walk across the street."

Bokuto was practically running across the street to get to the bathroom. Everyone else walked slowly, burdened with the weight of the day. Daishou was falling behind. Kuroo slowed his pace to talk to him.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, “you okay?” he asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

Daishou considered saying something like ‘I’m fine, just tired,’ but this was _Kuroo;_ they had known each other for longer than Daishou liked to admit, and he also knew Kuroo would be unrelenting until he told him the truth.

“Would you be? After what just happened?” he replied instead.

“What _did_ happen?”

Daishou desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but honestly he didn’t know what the truth was. He could feel it brimming at the edge of his mind, pushing at the edge of his thoughts. Paranoia was Daishou’s familiar friend, and what had happened today had been no different than other days; but he didn’t know what had caused it. Normally he could feel it coming, and had developed enough coping skills over the years to stifle his minor paranoia attacks.

 _They can see it,_ he had thought.

Daishou didn’t even know what _it_ was.

He thought, in that moment, if he had known, he would’ve told Kuroo. But he didn’t know, and probably never would tell.

“Nothing,” he said absentmindedly in response, “It’s nothing.”


	9. Why Snake People Hate Voicemails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait for the next chapter! an upcoming chapter got us kinda stuck, and some things have been Happening™ in our lives which kinda delayed things for a bit. 
> 
> here's (what's supposed to be) a half chapter as an apology for the wait
> 
> -cameron
> 
>  
> 
> this is up really late and its not even a real chapter sorry omfg
> 
> we've been having difficulty writing one of the upcoming chapters but hopefully we'll be able to get a "real" chapter up soon 
> 
> cameron wrote 99.99% of this btw
> 
> -esmae

**[voicemail from kinky cat daddy]:** _ Hey Daishou! Thanks for mentioning that you hate voicemails the other day. It’s really gonna help me out. Seriously. Also, how long have you had that voicemail recording? Since you were thirteen? Loser. Everyone knows you need to recite your credit card number and security code so people know who you are. Jeez, Daishou, how uneducated are you? Didn’t your moms teach you anything? Say hi to them, by the way. They’re really nice. Unlike you. Bye. _

 

**[voicemail from kinky cat daddy]:** _ I’m just calling to let you know that if you’re the one to put dirty dishes in the sink, you’re OBLIGATED to also CLEAN those dirty dishes. And guess what you didn’t fucking do. I refuse to eat anything with our plates, bowls, and/or silverware until you get back and clean up your mess. I’m not fucking with you, nor am I fucking you, nor will that even have a CHANCE to cross my mind until I have clean plates to eat lunch on.  _

 

**[voicemail from kinky cat daddy]:** _ (five minutes of Kuroo eating a bag of chips, no talking) _

 

**[voicemail from speed demon]:** _ DUDE, okay so I just saw, like, this giant beehive?? By the way Kuroo told me to send you voicemails so… BUT ANYWAYS I saw this beehive and I’m like SEVERELY ALLERGIC TO BEES so naturally I freak the fuck out. But I’m all alone… there was nobody with me because I was walking to class… dude I’m kind of shaken like call me back please like I could have DIED just now… imagine if one of those bees stung me. I’d die here and nobody would know because I wouldn’t have been able to make a call for the hospital… you guys would just… go throughout your day… wonder where I was when I didn’t come home… go out looking for me… find me dead outside the train station… what would you do Daishou? Anyways call me back BYE!! _

 

**[voicemail from kinky cat daddy]:** _ So… I know you have a date with some plant you found on the street but… there’s been something I’ve been wanting to tell you... I haven’t even told Bokuto yet... my mom already suspects something but she’s gonna be so disappointed in me... you gotta promise to still accept me....  _ **_(deep breath)_ ** _ Okay, here we go... I’m–  _ **_(message cut off)_ **

 

**[voicemail from speed demon]:** _ ……h-hi…… it’s me……  _ **_(breathing for about 2 minutes)_ ** _ ……… okay...bye… _

 

 **[voicemail from speed demon]:** _It’s 5:58 in the morning… hah, you’re probably still asleep, loser… haha…… prepare to get wrecked…_ ** _(door creaking)_** _hehehe…_ ** _(soft footsteps)_** **_(splashing sounds) (sputtering, coughing)_** _HAHA!_ ** _(fast footsteps) (distant voice:_** _“BOKUTO! Augh, what is this? Teriyaki sauce?!_ ** _)_** _AAAAHAHAHAHAHA!_ ** _(wheeze)_** _Oh my god, dude, your FACE! Ahahaha!_ ** _(voice growing closer at an alarming rate:_** _“Bo..ku..to!!!”_ ** _)_** _Ah!_ ** _(thump) (message cut off)_**

 

**[voicemail from speed demon]:** _ … so the other day he said this really funny thing but I guess only we thought it was funny because no one else laughed but then after that we went to get some coffee together and it was really fun hanging out with him and we even went to the park later and I showed him my favorite spot to feed the birds and it was really fun you know?  _ **_(Kuroo’s voice in the background:_ ** _ “You guys are so in love it makes me sick.” _ **_)_ ** _ WH-WHAT! WE AREN’T DATING???  _ **_(Kuroo laughing)_ ** _ Huh? Oh wait, I butt-dialed Daishou. Whoops. _

  
**[voicemail from filthy filthy plantfucker]:** _ It’s revenge time motherfucker. _


	10. You'll Never Believe What This Man Does With His Free Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slow updating the chapter after this has been giving us trouble. anyways this kinda starts bokutos arc lol
> 
> -esmae

It was early in the morning and Kuroo had gotten approximately half an hour of sleep when he heard Bokuto leave the apartment. He had been kept up until seven in the morning mostly by your standard insomnia, but partly because Daishou was feeding his horrid pet _fucking crickets of all fucking things._ Not even dead crickets; they were unfortunately alive, much like Kuroo.

In that moment, and many others, Kuroo was viewing death as a nice alternative than going to class with no sleep while simultaneously trying to beat Daishou at their petty games and take math notes. Of course, he could simply just _focus_ during class, but that would be letting Daishou win, and that was to be avoided _at all costs._ It really was more important than it sounded.

He had been halfway asleep when he heard a loud banging noise and a string of curses in his dear friend Bokuto's voice. Kuroo was about to get up and beat the metaphorical shit out of said dear friend, when he heard the door click shut behind Bokuto.

 _That's weird,_ Kuroo thought, but frankly, he was far too tired to care. He ignored it and tried (and failed) to get some sleep. Kuroo just assumed it was just part of Bokuto’s daily (yet often irregular) early morning routine and that would likely be the last of it – however, that was not the case.

Bokuto continued to leave the apartment at suspicious times without even saying a word to his roommates – usually it was right after class, but sometimes before the sun even rose. Bokuto normally came back about an hour after leaving. He was always wearing his backpack and a hoodie, normally looking upset or irritable.   

"Hey, bro what's wrong?" Kuroo asked. Bokuto was staring out the small window that looked out onto the fire escape, watching the pigeons fly back and forth in the early morning light. It was the weekend so neither of them had school, but both of them woke up early anyways. Daishou normally stayed in his room (likely fucking plants) until at least 3 in the afternoon.

"Hm?" Bokuto said, looking up.

"I sai–"

Bokuto suddenly seemed to process what Kuroo had asked. "Yeah. I'm fine," he replied, waving Kuroo off and walking over to the kitchen, then opening one of the cabinets that didn't close all the way because of Kuroo's coffee mugs. Bokuto grabbed one of said coffee mugs that Kuroo didn't care about (as much) and poured some birdseed into it. He climbed out onto the fire escape and fed the birds silently. Nostalgia lined his face. Kuroo stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and went back to his room.

The strange behaviour continued.

Bokuto not only left early in the morning, but late at night. He always had a backpack with him and left his phone at home. Kuroo managed to catch him right as he came home one morning.

It was around the asscrack of dawn and Kuroo had (once again, unfortunately) been awake at such a horrid hour. In the midst of shoving a shit ton of rice down his esophagus as early-morning breakfast in his mostly-asleep state, the sound of a key jiggling in the doorknob snapped Kuroo awake. He choked down his latest mouthful and posed “casually” against the kitchen doorway.

A moment later, Bokuto opened the door and stepped inside. He glanced up at Kuroo and greeted him dismally, then shut the door behind him.

“It’s early, have you had breakfast yet?” Kuroo asked. _Ya gotta ease into the questioning._

Bokuto set his bag down on the floor near their collection of shoes and nodded. “Y-Yeah, I stopped by at a cafe and got something.”

Even someone more simple-minded than Bokuto could figure out that Bokuto wasn’t telling the truth – not just because it was 5:48 in the fucking morning and no cafe would be open this early, but also because Bokuto was a _horrible_ liar. He didn’t look Kuroo in the eye when he said this, held no proof of his claim, stammered a bit, had the irritable expression of someone who had not eaten in fifteen hours, and his stomach conveniently (or inconveniently, depending on whose side you’re on) growled _very_ loudly after his statement.

Kuroo just chuckled and handed Bokuto the rest of his rice. Bokuto gave him a look that said _am I supposed to be impressed by this?_ but took it anyways.

“So, what’d’ya do today, Bokuto?” Kuroo asked as if their long Tuesday hadn’t only just begun. Much to his displeasure, Kuroo only possessed the trait of being “cool” when it was completely on accident.

“Eh, y’know just… stuff.”

“...Stuff?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow. Bokuto shuffled around with the guilt of a child who had not only stolen an entire candy store but also taken the cashier hostage and eaten all the taffy right in front of them.

“Hah, y-yeah, stuff!”

Bokuto was being Grade-A Suspicious.

Albeit being kind of scared, Kuroo was worried.

"Maybe he's being blackmailed," Kuroo told Daishou when he finally rose from his eighteen hour sleep.

"What's he doing?" Daishou asked, mostly out of manner than interest. He scrolled through his phone without even looking at Kuroo.

"He keeps leaving at weird hours with his bag. And he won't tell me _anything._ Like if he wasn't telling you anything, that'd be understandable, because you're an asshole, but I'm his _friend._ He also just seems upset. I don't know, I'm just worried."

"Maybe he's dealing drugs."

"We all know you're the stoner, Daishou. After all you can't make a living off of fucking plants," Kuroo snapped.

"Shut up," Daishou replied, eyes narrowed.

 _The motherfucker really looks like a snake like that,_ Kuroo thought.

"You were probably the kid on the bus with a bag of oregano who told everyone it was weed," Kuroo snorted.   

"Asshole."

"You're not denying it."

Daishou sputtered as Kuroo cackled.

He was still worried.

Bokuto's strange disappearances continued for about a week, and it wasn’t until Daishou witnessed Bokuto’s fishy behavior firsthand that he joined Kuroo in his suspicion _(“Oh my god, he’s on a murder spree,”_ he’d said). Kuroo decided to take action.

Yes, at seven in the morning Kuroo slammed open Daishou's door, yanked open the blinds, grabbed dirty clothes off his floor, and threw them at the sleeping Daishou.

"Wake up dickhead. We're following him."

"Geythafuckoot," Daishou said, voice sleep heavy.

"Get dressed and ready within two minutes or I'm telling our entire volleyball team you wore underwear with Peter Pan on them until you were 12."

"You _wouldn't._ "

"You've known me for how long, Daishou? I'm nothing if not petty."

" _Fine._ Now get out I'll be ready in a minute," Daishou groaned.

Kuroo turned to leave, "I'll also tell them you couldn't tie your shoes until you were 11 and wore velcro shoes until then," he smirked.

"I said get out holy shit."

Kuroo grinned and slammed the door behind him.

A couple of moments later Daishou exited his room, hair so disheveled that it rivaled Kuroo's. He looked miserable, which consequently made Kuroo happy.

Kuroo grabbed him by his hand and drug him out the apartment door.

"We're gonna lose him," Kuroo complained.

"What are we even doing?" Daishou asked, jerking his hand away.

"We're following Bokuto to see what he's up to. We have to cure him of his illegal habits."

"How do you know where to go?"

"I watched him yesterday," Kuroo replied.

Daishou raised an eyebrow, "Creep."

"I'm just worried about one of my best friends, okay?" Kuroo snapped suddenly.

"Yeah, okay. Chill."

They walked the majority of way in silence.

Kuroo saw a greenhouse across the street and said 'Daishou's kind of brothel' but that was about the only kind of conversation they held.

Neither of them spoke for awhile. The pigeons struck up their formation and flew back and forth overhead.

"Fucking pigeons," Daishou mumbled angrily.

"Is it because that one shit on you in fifth grade?"

"They're just fucking disgusting," Daishou replied.

"It's because one shit on you in fifth grade."

"Fine. Yes it's because one shit on me in fifth grade."

"Remember when you thought crack and weed were the same thing?"

"Remember when you cried at my house for five hours because you thought we were gonna get arrested for Jaywalking?"

"Remember when someone you liked tried to talk to you and you ran away and cried at _my_ house for five hours?"

"Remember when you got into a fistfight with another nerd over some scientific theory and got suspended for three days?"

"You had a neko waifu figurine that you brought to lunch with me and Kenma. You talked to it and guarded it with your life."

"Says the guy who spent two hours after school practicing the moves James Bond used to dodge bullets," Daishou replied.

"You thought gay and lesbian combined meant bi and when you tried to come out to me and Kenma you said 'I think I'm gay and lesbian.'"

"I'm taking a class now," Daishou laughed, "Remember when we didn't hate each other?"

Kuroo glanced back at Daishou. He was almost a meter behind him – he always walked so fucking slow. He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'never happened', because all this reminiscing _hurt_ him. And he wanted to hurt Daishou.

"I don't hate you," Kuroo said instead.

Daishou looked shocked for a moment, "I don't hate you, either," he mumbled, looking at the soft, smog filled morning sky.

"Shit man, I think we lost Bokuto," Kuroo said suddenly. They'd been walking behind him while talking, but had lost track of trying to follow him and instead gotten absorbed in their conversation. Kuroo was honestly more concerned at the fact that Bokuto hadn't noticed them.

"He's right there," Daishou said, pointing to a park bench across the street.

Bokuto took off his backpack and took out a brown paper bag.

"Oh my god, what if he's actually dealing drugs?" Kuroo asked, aghast.

"Or it's money for his blackmailer."

"Or he's _buying_ drugs."

"Holy shit dude," Daishou said, pointing to a bank in the distance, "What if he's scoping out the bank?"

"Okay, that's illegal but I’d be _super_ impressed."

"Let’s just go ask him."

They silently walked over to Bokuto's bench and plopped down on either side of him.

"Hey guys," Bokuto said, once getting over his initial fear and instinct to fight and/or run. He seemed uncharacteristically morose.

"You're not being blackmailed, right?" Kuroo asked.

"Dealing drugs?" Daishou followed up before Bokuto could answer.

" _Doing_ drugs?"

"Robbing a bank?"

"Selling your body?"

"Where the fuck did that one come from?"

Kuroo shrugged.

"No to all of those. I'm feeding birds." Bokuto sighed. His face looked pained, but also somewhat wistful.

"You came all the way out here to feed some god awful pigeons that you could’ve fed on our fire escape?"

"Daishou, you should get us coffee," Kuroo ordered suddenly.

"Wha–OH. Yeah, okay," Daishou sprang up. There was not a cafe in sight but he walked purposefully to begin his quest.

Once Daishou was far enough, Kuroo glanced over at Bokuto. "You okay? Be honest this time. And why _are_ you feeding pigeons in a park? Like don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're not robbing a bank, although that would be _rad_ , but I don't understand this either," Kuroo said.

"First of all, define okay. Second of all..." Bokuto trailed off, "The past two years… after school me and ‘Kaashi would feed birds in the park. Now our routines are all screwed up and I’m really lonely and… I don't know man, I just really miss him," Bokuto finished.

"Okay, first of all, are you even straight? Because if so I reserve the right to make fun of straight people. I mean for god's sake they gender colors."

After a contemplative pause, Bokuto finally said, "I think I'm nothing.”

"What?"

Bokuto merely shrugged and tossed out a handful of birdseed at a passing sparrow.

They sat in silence for a minute, Kuroo searching the sky for what to say.

"Do you... love him?" Kuroo asked, hesitance surrounding his words. He knew very well that it wasn’t a simple question to ask – for he had asked himself the same exact question about others for years and still hadn’t found an answer.

"I dunno… I – I think so? I don’t know, it just seems different."

Kuroo’s eyes widened at how quickly Bokuto’d come up with a response. "How so?"

"Like… I don’t like him the way Jack loved Rose, you know?"

“In Titanic?”

“Yeah.”

Kuroo hummed. Being the mediator he only sometimes was, his brain searched for an explanation that it couldn’t quite find yet.

“Are you sure it’s not like friend-love?” He finally asked.

Bokuto scrunched his face up and bounced around a little. “I don’t knowww,” He whined. “It’s like, I love you, Kuroo! You’re my friend and you’re always here for me even when I get in my moods,” he grumbled, burying his face into his coat collar and muffling his voice. “And I can trust you, right?” He asked pensively and turned to look at Kuroo.

“Of course.”

“I feel the same way with Akaashi… except… I dunno, it feels like it’s more than that.”

“Hmm. Would you date him?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t imagine dating anybody.”

"Well, you have time to figure it out."

"I don't know if I do," he barely whispered.

They sat there in silence for a few more minutes until Daishou came stumbling back with a tray of coffee and a shit ton of sugar packs and cream cups.

“I didn’t know how you guys took your coffee so I just brought back everything,” Daishou panted, tossing at least an elephant’s asshole worth of of stir sticks at Kuroo.

"Hey, you guys can head back to the apartment now that you know I'm not dealing drugs," Bokuto joked, but his voice was heavy. "I just need some time alone."

Daishou and Kuroo shared a Look™.

"You're sure you're okay?" Kuroo asked Bokuto.

"I think I will be," he sighed.

Kuroo merely nodded and turned to walk away with Daishou.

“Looks like the only illegal thing he was doing was feeding wild animals,” Daishou said.

As they disappeared down the turns and bends of the street, which was bathed in icy morning light, Bokuto couldn't help but wonder if he really would be okay.

Bokuto's brain had always made him feel like he was trapped in a box with one exit, a box that was slowly filling up with water. Theoretically, he should be able to exit said box before the water got over his head. But so many things were pressing on the outside that the door wouldn't open, and so he slowly started drowning.

Every mistake, every misplaced word, every late homework assignment, got poured into the box.

Focusing should be simple, but he was trapped in his box of half picked up interests and failing grades. He should be able to to what other people could do, but everything was becoming overwhelming. Then whenever he actually _could_ focus, it was always on the wrong thing.

It only doubled when he started college and 'became an adult’. He didn't _feel_ like an adult, he felt the way everyone else viewed him: like a half-witted child who needed discipline and not 'silly medication’. Medication he could barely remember to take at that.

Bokuto may have exuded confidence, but it was mostly a “fake it 'til you make it” kind of thing. Really, he was unsure of everything. Especially himself. How could he be sure of himself when his own head constantly failed him despite his best efforts.

The only thing that made Bokuto feel sure of himself was Akaashi.

Akaashi never treated him like a child to be cast aside, instead like someone to be reasoned with. Akaashi thought he was funny and smart. He saw value in him even when Bokuto couldn't find it in himself.

Bokuto wasn't sure of anything, not of himself, not of the world, not of Kuroo and Daishou. He lived in a world of unfocus and unsureness. Living for him was like trying to balance on a rope stretched above a chasm so dark you could feel it, and the rope was on fire. Bokuto lived in a box. A box that was slowly filling up with water that had a door the world had mangled close.

The only thing Bokuto was sure of was that he really missed Akaashi, and he wasn't even sure how to feel about it.

He stared out at the cold grey morning sky, at the birds that seemed sure of their wings, at the people whose lives took them upwards instead of dragging them down. He stared at the constant sky, the neverending earth, thought about unrelenting life. He wondered if he would be okay.

He wondered if any of them would be.


	11. How to Read Your Kids' Deleted Text Messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats this???? a text message chapter???¿???¿¿??¿ lmao yea were lazy and thought this would be easier to write as a filler but turns out it's actually 1200x harder. anyways yeah this was the chapter that we had a hard time completing.
> 
> some Funny and Important stuff happens in this chapter!!! i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> -esmae

**iMessage**

[Monday, 10:12 AM]

 **> >the amazing ace: **have u guuys seen my volleyball????

 **> annoying cat: **yea theres 2 under the coffee table

 **> >the amazing ace: **no not those ones

 **> annoying cat: **the one beneath the kitchen sink

 **> >the amazing ace: **no

 **> annoying cat: **shower?

 **> >the amazing ace: **nO

 **> snek man show me a snek: **the one u hid in my plants.

 **> >the amazing ace: **yeA THAT ONE

 **> annoying cat: **ew why did daishou just text me lol

 **> annoying cat: **waIT

 **> annoying cat: **bokuto NO

 **> >the amazing ace: ** BOKUTO YES 

**> >the amazing ace (Sent With Slam Effect): **WE NEED TO BOND

 **> snek man show me a snek: **i just followed you to a park last week and watched you feed birds weve done enough bonding.

 **> snek man show me a snek: **ur only a level 3

 **> >the amazing ace: **daishou u need to snop grading ur friends

 **> annoying cat: **1\. snop 2. who said we were friends with him

 **> snek man show me a snek: **snop

 **> annoying cat (Sent With Laser Effect): **snop

 **> >the amazing ace: **bro my eyes

 **> annoying cat: **yea bro theyre beautiful

 **> annoying cat: **no homo

 **> >the amazing ace: **just bromo  

 **> snek man show me a snek: **im leaving

 **> >the amazing ace: **u can’t leave, ur a bro now

 **> snek man show me a snek: **im leavign and im blocking both of you

 **> annoying cat:** we literally share an apartment u waffle 

**> snek man show me a snek: **ill move out

 **> annoying cat: **i wish

 **> >the amazing ace: **NO FIGHTING IN MY GROUPCHAT

 **> snek man show me a snek: **no bitchin in my kitchen

 **> >the amazing ace: **were not even in the kitchen????

 **> snek man show me a snek: **.....

 **> snek man show me a snek: **u know wat nvm

 

**iMessage**

[12:33 PM]

 **> >the amazing ace:** ehy guys

 **> >the amazing ace: **whats up

 **> annoying cat: **the sky

 **> snek man show me a snek: **im gonna personally come across the hall and beat the shitt outta you

 **> >the amazing ace: **look at this dog i found today

[Attached Image]

 **> >the amazing ace: **I LVOE HIM!!!!!

 **> annoying cat: **i love him more

 **> snek man show me a snek: **why must love be war

 **> snek man show me a snek: **i love gun

 **> snek man show me a snek: **no!!!!!!!

 **> snek man show me a snek: **i love him*

 **> annoying cat (Sent With Invisible Ink): **gun

 **> snek man show me a snek (Sent With Gentle Effect): **stop

 **> >the amazing ace: **snop

 **> annoying cat: **no american republicans in my house

 **> snek man show me a snek: **holy shit!!!!

 **> annoying cat: **haha thats funny bc u suck at englihs

 **> snek man show me a snek: **whats that even supposed to mean

 **> snek man show me a snek: **also ill have u know that i got a 95% in english class last year so suck it

 **> annoying cat: **haha i got a 97%

 **> snek man show me a snek: **fuck off???

 **> snek man show me a snek: **i bet you cant speak spanish

 **> annoying cat: **i can too speak spanish

 **> annoying cat (Sent With Slam Effect): **buenas días, dick snatch

 **> snek man show me a snek: **wh

 **> snek man show me a snek: **what the fuck does that mean

 **> annoying cat: **looks like someone doesnt know spanish

 **> snek man show me a snek: **did you jsut call me a fuckin dick snatch??

 **> annoying cat: **your comebacks are getting worse and worse daishou

 **> annoying cat: **being a dick really changes people doesnt it

 **> >the amazing ace: **NO FOUGHTING IN MY GROUP FHAT

 

**iMessage**

[1:47 PM]

 **_the amazing ace_ ** _named the conversation “I have to poop”._

 

**iMessage**

[2:31 PM]

 **> snek man show me a snek: **why

 **> >the amazing ace: **why what

 **> snek man show me a snek: **why did you change the converstion name to that

 **> >the amazing ace: **bcuz i had t o

 **> annoying cat: **you only just now noticed?

 **> snek man show me a snek: **you didn’t question it?

 **> annoying cat: **i am a man who only accepts things as how they are, for accepting the truth is the first and only way to achieve enlightenment

 

 **_snek man show me a snek_ ** _named the conversation “The Worst Groupchat In The Entire World”._

 **> >the amazing ace: **your so mean!!!

 **> snek man show me a snek:** its true tho

 **> snek man show me a snek:** and better than fuckkin “i have to poop”

 **> annoying cat: **you’re*

 **> >the amazing ace: **youre what

 **> annoying cat: **are you really that forgetful?

 **> >the amazing ace:** yes

 **> snek man show me a snek:** great

 **> snek man show me a snek:** i hate this chat

 **> annoying cat:** just leave it then you coward

 **> snek man show me a snek:** i CANT it doesnt let me

 **> >the amazing ace: **nO DONT LEAV

 **> >the amazing ace: **oh okay

 **> annoying cat: **why have we been trapped here

 **> annoying cat: **we’re trapped in an apartment together isnt that enough

 **> >the amazing ace: **god damkn it u guys cant u even just pretend to get along??

 **> annoying cat: **oh right this is for bonding gotcha

 **> annoying cat: **sorry bokuto

 **> snek man show me a snek:** sorry??? im not sorry. why are we beign forced to suddenly just make up like we hadnt gone 4 years avoiding all possible contact???

 **> >the amazing ace:** bcuz you gu7ys are streessing me out!!!!!!!

 **> annoying cat:** dude chill its understandable that bokuto doesnt like it when friends argue

 **> snek man show me a snek:** oh, sorry

 **> >the amazing ace:** yeah its fine

 

**iMessage**

[Tuesday, 4:03 PM]

 **> annoying cat:** so tell me about your kinks

 **> snek man show me a snek: **why must it always come down to this

 **> snek man show me a snek: **i dont have a daddy kink ur out of luck

 **> annoying cat: **i dont either so jokes on you

 **> snek man show me a snek: **youre the one with the mug

 **> annoying cat: **youre the one who gave it to me

 **> snek man show me a snek:** fuck

 **> annoying cat:** so are you guys gonna tell or what

 **> snek man show me a snek: **why do you want ot know thats weird

 **> annoying cat: **bc im curious

 **> snek man show me a snek: **curisotiy killed the cat

 **> annoying cat: **and satisfaction brought it back bithc tell me

 **> snek man show me a snek:** not unless you admit youve got a daddy kink

 **> annoying cat: **allow me to list all the reasons why daddy kinks are bad,

 **> snek man show me a snek: **oh god nevermind i dont have time fo rthis

 **> snek man show me a snek: **… youve been typing for a while what the rfcuck

 **> annoying cat: **1\. Suggests pedophilia

  1. Suggests incest
  2. Suggests a sexual relationship with a father and child??????????? What the fcuk gusy
  3. Suggests that those involved in a relationship with a daddy kink are sexually attracted to the idea of that shit wh??
  4. Overall disgusting?????
  5. I can’t believe you have accused me of having such an impure kink, there are far better kinks out there. Like choking for instance, or biting.



**> >the amazing ace:** cant you guys talk about this out loud hwile im gone

 **> snek man show me a snek: **yeah what the fuck youre in the other room you could have saved everyone’s time by just speaking to my face or better yet not doing it at all

 **> annoying cat (Sent With Gentle Effect): **he arrives

 **> annoying cat: **i had to put an end to this

 **> snek man show me a snek: **then will you stop calling me plantfucker if i stop saying you have a daddy kink

 **> annoying cat: **no

 **> annoying cat: **anyways you guys never answered my question about your kinks

 **> snek man show me a snek: **seriously this is so weird how much sleep did you get

 **> annoying cat: **HAH is that even a question? 45 minutes

 **> snek man show me a snek: **great

 **> >the amazing ace: **none?

 **> snek man show me a snek: **none ? none what

 **> >the amazing ace: **none kinks

 **> annoying cat: **no kinks?

 **> snek man show me a snek: **you lie

 **> >the amazing ace: **I NEVER LIE!!

 **> annoying cat: **you lie all the time

 **> >the amazing ace: **NOT ABOUT THIS!!

 **> >the amazing ace: **the only thing here that’s a lie are the kinks

 **> annoying cat: **the kink is a lie

 **> snek man show me a snek: **shut the fuck up

 **> annoying cat: **but really no kinks?

 **> >the amazing ace: **not in this land

 **> annoying cat: **no kinks in bokutoland

 **> snek man show me a snek: **omg what

 **> >the amazing ace: **OMG

 

 **_annoying cat_ ** _named the conversation “no kinks in bokutoland”._

 

 **> snek man show me a snek: **seriously tho no kinks

 **> >the amazing ace: **nope

 **> snek man show me a snek: **what about sex

 **> >the amazing ace: **none sexe

 **> >the amazing ace: ***sex

 **> snek man show me a snek (Sent With Gentle Effect): **sexe

 **> annoying cat: **its pronounced seeks

 **> snek man show me a snek: **bokuto none sex really tho?

 **> >the amazing ace: **nah

 **> >the amazing ace: **i always thought it was unecessary lmso

 **> snek man show me a snek: **huh

 **> annoying cat: **bro maybe ur ace

 **> >the amazing ace: **ofc im the ace what other position would i play

 **> >the amazing ace: **what kind of quesiotn

 **> annoying cat: **no no not volleyball ace

 **> annoying cat: **like sex ace

 **> snek man show me a snek: **????????

 **> >the amazing ace: **WELL IM FLATTERED YOU THINK THAT BUT

 **> >the amazing ace: **I’m not a sex ace

 **> annoying cat: **not sex sex ace like sexuality sex ace

 **> snek man show me a snek: **im lost

 **> >the amazing ace: **what

 **> annoying cat: **asexual

 **> >the amazing ace: **isnt htat a plant thing??

 **> >the amazing ace: ** are you saying im attracted ot plants?

 **> annoying cat:** dude no

 **> >the amazing ace: **daishous the plantfucker not me

 **> snek man show me a snek:** please

 **> >the amazing ace:** if anyone hes asexual not me

 **> >the amazing ace: **oh

 **> annoying cat: **y’know like heterosexual homosexual bisexual pansexual

 **> annoying cat: **asexual

 **> snek man show me a snek: **what is that

 **> annoying cat: **no sexe

 **> snek man show me a snek:** so virgins

 **> annoying cat: **no!!!

 **> annoying cat: **okay so have you ever seen someone or a picture of someone attractive and youre like “damn theyre hot/sexy” or “i’d tap that” or something?

 **> snek man show me a snek:** yea

 **> >the amazing ace: **no

 **> snek man show me a snek: **no?

 **> annoying cat: **YEAH SEE ASEXUAL

 **> annoying cat: **asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction

 **> annoying cat: **sexual attraction is like,,,,when u see someon u find ‘hot’ and ur like “damn id fuck em” sort of involuntarily

 **> annoying cat: **theres a whole bunch of physical stuff involved too but we ARE NOT bonding that much no thx

 **> snek man show me a snek:** you had to make it weird didn’t you

 **> annoying cat: **kenma can explain this better than i can hes the one thats ace

 **> annoying cat: **well mostly

 **> snek man show me a snek: **yea but then when there’s no one to

 **> snek man show me a snek (Sent With Gentle Effect): **satisfy your needs

 **> snek man show me a snek: **you get porn

 **> >the amazing ace: **you guys must have a lot of porn then

 **> snek man show me a snek: **DAMN

 **> snek man show me a snek: **OKAY

 **> annoying cat: **LMAO

 **> >the amazing ace: **thIS KINDA MAKES SENSE THOUGH

 **> >the amazing ace: **EVERYONE THOUGHT I WAS WEIRD THAT I DIDNT LIKE THIS STUFF

 **> >the amazing ace: **SO I JUST PRETENDED

 **> annoying cat: **nnow youre double ace

 **> >the amazing ace: **omg ur right

 **> >the amazing ace: **HAHAHA

 **> >the amazing ace: **I REALLY AM THE AMAZING ACE!!!!

 **> annoying cat: **yeah buddy!!

 **> annoying cat: **also our discussion the other day got me thinking

 **> annoying cat: **do you think youre aromantic too?

 **> annoying cat: **that’s like the same thing as asexual but, like, romance. Like you dont get crushes or something like that. Idk i dont know much about it

 **> >the amazing ace: **i dont know?

 **> >the amazing ace: **maybe? I’m not sure I have to think about it

 **> snek man show me a snek: **how did you find about about this?

 **> annoying cat: **sawamura told me

 **> annoying cat: **apparently someone in karasuno’s like that, i think it was their manager but i forgot

 **> >the amazing ace: **SAWAMURAAAAA!!

 **> >the amazing ace: **HOW HAS HE BEEN I MISS PLAYING CARDS WITH HIM

 **> annoying cat: **he’s good lol

 **> annoying cat: **i asked him if he would crush my skull between his thighs, killing me instantly, and we haven’t really talked since

 **> snek man show me a snek: **who

 **> annoying cat: **karasuno’s former captain

 **> annoying cat: **former! Oh! I’ve been hit! my wonderful team! without me! what will those children do?!

 **> annoying cat: **can taketora truly handle the responsibilities of being captain?!

 **> snek man show me a snek: **can you stop being so fucking dramatic

 **> annoying cat: **no

 **> >the amazing ace: **kenma’s not gonna be captain??? :0

 **> annoying cat: **no, he and fukunaga didn’t want to so i was left with no choice. I managed to get kenma to be vice though

 **> annoying cat: **i’m sure taketora will be fine. From what i’ve heard from kenma he seems to not be that bad… yet. He’s just hotheaded.

 **> >the amazing ace: **i proudly left the role of captain to akaashi!!!!!!

 **> annoying cat: **yes we know

 **> >the amazing ace: **who’s your new captain daishou??

 **> snek man show me a snek: **this kid seguro akihiko

 **> snek man show me a snek:** he’s pretty powerful but neither of those third years have any game sense or willpower

 **> snek man show me a snek:** they better not turn nohebi into a fresh hot mess

 **> annoying cat: **yeah, you and your third year teammates really shaped your team

 **> annoying cat: **haha you didnt have a vice tho no one wanted to work w you

 **> snek man show me a snek: **actually we had a very supportive and respected team that treated each other as family thank you very much

 **> snek man show me a snek: **also shut the fuck up

 

**iMessage**

[7:21 PM]

 **> annoying cat: **do you guys wanna hear some GOSSIP?

 **> annoying cat: **so theres this shit named futakuchi from date tech’s vollelyball team

 **> annoying cat:** in miyagi

 **> annoying cat:** and apparently he and some other kid got into a fight and they got suspended

 **> annoying cat:** and he’s being a pissbaby about it on social media like ‘wahh i can’t go to practice im the captain my team needs me i want to play’ like shut up you initiated a fist fight by the vending machines because the dude your crush likes took the last milk carton like you got what you deserved

 **> annoying cat:** children these days gosh

 **> annoying cat:** milk isn’t even that good anyways

 

**iMessage**

[7:49 PM]

 **> snek man show me a snek:** how do you even know this and why do you care

 **> annoying cat: **instagram

 **> annoying cat: **specifically i found their ace’s instagram through hinata’s following list and then futakuchi from there and then i got curious about what happened and messaged their setter

 **> snek man show me a snek:** oh lord

 **> snek man show me a snek:** you’re such a gossipy bitch

 **> snek man show me a snek:** god damn it this is how you found out about mika isn’t it

 **> annoying cat: **ya

 **> snek man show me a snek:** also milk is good fuck off

 **> annoying cat: **it might be good for my body but it’s not good for my taste buds

 **> >the amazing ace: **mabey your drinking the wrong kind of milk

 **> snek man show me a snek:** i love strawberry milk

 **> annoying cat: **thats fucking gross

 **> >the amazing ace: **milks got CADMIUM!

 **> snek man show me a snek:** calcium?

 **> >the amazing ace: **YEAH THAT

 **> annoying cat: **actually

 **> snek man show me a snek:** oh jeez

 **> annoying cat: **milk is just fortified with vitamin d to promote the absorption of calcium and other vitamins and minerals so really milk on its own isn’t that great

 **> snek man show me a snek:** no one cares?

 **> snek man show me a snek:** stop using your dumb vague biology facts to try to convince us when youre the one thats wrong

 **> >the amazing ace: **what about soy milk!! Almond mlik!!!

 **> annoying cat: **fake milk

 **> >the amazing ace: **>:0!!

 **> snek man show me a snek:** ok but how can u not like chocolate molk

 **> annoying cat: **molk

 **> >the amazing ace: **milk

 **> >the amazing ace: **molk*

 **> snek man show me a snek:** molk….,

 **> annoying cat: **molk

 **> annoying cat: **haha

 

 **_annoying cat_ ** _named the conversation “molk”._

 

 **> snek man show me a snek:** that sounds like mold i dont like it

 **> annoying cat: **okay but chocolate isnt AS BAD

 **> annoying cat: **like it’s okay i guess

 **> >the amazing ace: **dude what about ice cream

 **> annoying cat: **ice cream is good

 **> snek man show me a snek:** i LOVE ice cream

 **> annoying cat:** yeah i know theres like 8 packages of papico in our freezer

 **> snek man show me a snek:** its 6 so fuck you

 **> >the amazing ace: **what about cereal

 **> annoying cat: **i literally only ever eat cereal dry or on ice cream

 **> snek man show me a snek:** stop eating cereal in the shower btw u fuckign weirdo

 **> snek man show me a snek:** ok but can we talk about why bokuto came into the bathroom while i was showering

 **> >the amazing ace: **I WAS TSKING IF YOU KNEW WHERE MY CHIPS WERE YOU DIDNT HAVE OT SCReAM

 **> snek man show me a snek:** WHY WOULD I KNOW THAT

 **> snek man show me a snek:** COULDN’T IT HAVE WAITED

 **> snek man show me a snek:** OR ASK THROUGH THE DOOR OR SOMETHING

 **> >the amazing ace: **wait why do you shower like that

 **> snek man show me a snek (Sent With Loud Effect): **?????????

 **> snek man show me a snek:** why were you paying attention to HOW I SHOWER

 **> >the amazing ace: **YOU WERE FACING AWAY FROMT HE WATER THINGY

 **> annoying cat: **wait

 **> annoying cat: **bokuto

 **> annoying cat: **are you telling me

 **> annoying cat: **that you shower facing the showerhead?

 **> >the amazing ace: **um YEAH?? The RIGHT WAY

 **> snek man show me a snek:** no????

 **> snek man show me a snek:** why would you do that??

 **> annoying cat: **doesn’t your back get cold?

 **> >the amazing ace: **doesn’t your front get cold?

 **> annoying cat: **no because the water falls against your neck and lots of it goes down your front therefore keeping your entire body wet

 **> snek man show me a snek:** and why would you want the water DIRECTLY HITTING YOUR FACE THE ENTIRE TIME

 **> snek man show me a snek:** that is WRONG

 **> annoying cat: **plus there’s so much room in the shower and you’re facing the CLOSEST WALL??

 **> snek man show me a snek:** What if a murderer comes up from behind

 **> >the amazing ace: **no muderer would get me in the shower because they would get distracted by my RIPPLING NUDE BODY

 **> annoying cat: **good to know

 **> annoying cat: **but showering facing the showerhead is a crime in this house

 **> snek man show me a snek:** agreed

 **> annoying cat: **i can’t believe you of all people agree with me on this

 **> snek man show me a snek:** lmfao what r u talking about we dont agree on anything

 **> >the amazing ace: **you guys agreed on the shower discourse

 **> >the amazing ace: **OH WAIT

 **> >the amazing ace: **A MILESTONE!!!!!!

 **> >the amazing ace: **YOUVE BONDED THROUGH SHOWER DISCOURSE

 **> snek man show me a snek: **great can i leave now

 **> >the amazing ace: **NO!!!!! WERE ALL FRIENDS NOW!!

 **> annoying cat: **ill never be friends with that plantfucker again

 **> >the amazing ace:** ???? again

 **> snek man show me a snek: **dw abt it

 **> >the amazing ace: **NOW WE’LL ALWAYS HAVE THIS GROUPCHAT

 **> >the amazing ace: **COMMENTARY OUR FRIENDSHIP

 **> annoying cat: **u mean commemorating

 **> snek man show me a snek: **bokuto i can hear you crying in your room and its making me uncomfortable

 **> >the amazing ace: **I LOV MY FRONDS

 **> annoying cat: **great

 **> snek man show me a snek: **great

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [contact names for everyone]
> 
> [bokuto]  
> kuroo: annoying cat  
> daishou: snek man show me a snek  
> himself: the amazing ace  
> (this chapters written from his pov so those are the names that appear in this chapter)
> 
> [kuroo]  
> bokuto: annoying owl  
> daishou: filthy filthy plantfucker  
> himself: dickmaster 9000
> 
> [daishou]  
> bokuto: speed demon  
> kuroo: kinky cat daddy  
> himself: suguru


	12. 25 Times Close Enough Didn't Even Begin To Cut It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT so sorry we haven't updated in so long??! i promise you guys that this fic will definitely remain ongoing unless otherwise said so, which probably won't happen since we've dedicated so much time to it it'd be a shame for us not to finish it. oh, and don't worry, we're only like a fourth of the way through this god forsaken fic. _wheeze_
> 
> we're hoping to pick up the pace with update times but testing season is coming up (at least for me) so we'll be trying our best to continue updating at a somewhat-regular (though probably not) basis!
> 
> anyways, sorry for the longer a/n. we're really proud of how this chapter turned out so i hope you guys like it!!
> 
> \- cameron
> 
> sorry we haven't updated in so long schools been kicking my ass :v hopefully the angst in this chapter will make up for it lol
> 
> -esmae

Bokuto smiled and laughed like everyone else. He had interests and hobbies like everyone else. He had struggles and strife like everyone else. 

For the most part Bokuto was like everyone else. 

But his brain was wired differently. He didn't think the same, feel the same, react the same. 

He wasn't the same, and therefore wasn't treated the same way.

It wasn't one of those "everyone's different, respect the differences" things or whatever other thing you could find on a poster in your counselor's office. Everyone's different. Everyone's brain works differently. But Bokuto's brain behaved in such a way that this exceeded the respectable difference zone. The treatment he received was from both adults and peers. 

Adults treated him like a child, sneered at his forgetfulness, yelled at him for his way of thinking. More than once teachers told his parents during conferences to take him off his medication and turn to more "traditional" forms of getting him to pay attention. 

His parents, while cold, were not cruel; but they didn't stand in his defence. They didn't understand. 

Bokuto was nine when he was diagnosed.

It was a relief and a discouragement at the same time. 

Because finally,  _ finally, _ he had a reason. A reason for feeling how he had his entire life. But he also felt like he was being told something was wrong with him. That's how everyone else viewed it anyways. 

Most people's logic was that, if you need to take medication for it, something's not quite right with you. 

ADHD wasn't an illness for Bokuto. It was just how he existed. And how he existed was viewed as something wrong. 

He was told rates of depression and anxiety were higher in people with ADHD. He wondered why. A few years after his diagnosis, he didn't wonder. 

Bokuto's greatest wish was that his brain would work like everyone else's. But it didn't, and even with the medication administered to him, it never would. 

Because it was so fucking frustrating, seeing everyone else doing something with such ease, when he had such difficulty with it.

Frustration with himself had taken over Bokuto's brain. 

He was told he would grow out of it.

He did not.

Yes, he smiled and laughed like everyone else. He eventually gained friends via volleyball. He was happy, really, genuinely happy. Happy Bokuto was the Bokuto that everyone loved.

But happy people break too.

Technically, it started on a Monday.

Bokuto sat in class, fucking around on his laptop as the professor greeted the students, equally as tired as the college kids chugging various forms of caffeine in his lecture hall. 

“Now, for the next two weeks, you guys won’t have to suffer through any lectures from me whatsoever,” the professor said. Students cheered in response, but the professor held up a finger to silence them.  _ “Because,  _ you are going to be starting a project!”

A chorus of groans echoed through the lecture hall, but Bokuto perked up.  _ Finally  _ no more boring case studies and death via powerpoint!

“You are to complete an outline of chapter four, including all the vocabulary and review questions, and then choose one of the subjects listed on page one-thirty-six to complete your project. You will create an experiment based on the details in the textbook and report your findings to the class in a presentation, and a final report should be written and turned into me.”

The entire class silently groaned again, this time including Bokuto.

“When is this due?” A student in the first row asked.

“The chapter outline is due next monday, and the project and report is due on the 30th. I’ve put the rubric up online for you to see.” The professor replied.

Bokuto dropped his head onto the table with a loud bang. “Euhhhhhh, I’d rather listen to lecturessssss…” he groaned. Rather loudly, at that. A few students snickered and the professor shook his head disapprovingly.

“Now, Bokuto, it is a lot of work, but if you manage your time wisely you should be able to get it done.” The professor said. Bokuto pulled his head up and looked at him with a face that could only be interpreted as saying  _ why didn’t you kick me out on the first day of class when I accidentally insulted your wife and spilled my smoothie everywhere out of embarrassment.  _

The professor just raised an eyebrow at him with a knowing grin. “If you want to save yourself some stress, Bokuto, you better start working on your outline during class today.”

Bokuto, a constantly vibrating human-shaped sack of stress, was all about that idea – but unfortunately, he found himself staring at the chapter introduction page for ten minutes straight and decided that maybe he could wait until later. Yeah – it was only the first day, after all! No need to worry when the project was  _ just  _ assigned, right?

So by the time class ended, the project was already gone from Bokuto’s mind.

And for the next few days, the project only existed while Bokuto was in that class, which was only about two more times that week. Each class period he attempted to do his work but the conversations and open windows and pencil tapping and computer clicking and everything everything everything made it impossible for Bokuto to focus on whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing. So, like every other university student that constantly lied to themselves, Bokuto said he was going to work on it at home.

Spoiler alert: he did not.

Instead of doing homework, every day that week Bokuto would arrive back home and – wait for it – do anything  _ but  _ work. Usually he cooked and cleaned, which were his go-to activities during bouts of extreme life-or-death boredom or procrastination. 

Things were all fine and dandy… until there were only three days until the outline was due and Bokuto hadn’t done a single thing and  _ aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA. _

Kuroo walked into the apartment and found Bokuto sat on the couch with his laptop next to him and his hands in his hair, looking like he was going to rip the bleach right from its dark roots.

“You okay?” Kuroo asked, noticing Bokuto looked a little more upset than normal while doing homework.

Bokuto felt the lie of “I’m fine, just stressed,” on his tongue, but he stopped himself. Maybe Kuroo could help. He was – usually – a helpful guy, right?

“Not really, actually,” Bokuto finally replied.

“Oh,” Kuroo said, not expecting that answer, “I’m sorry.” He leaned onto the arm of the couch and glanced over Bokuto’s laptop and blank notebook. “Do you need any help?”

“It’s fine. I just wish I could actually  _ get this done _ , you know?” He paused, noticing Kuroo nodding in thought beside him. 

“Yeah, I get it,” Kuroo said.

“But you actually manage to get it done in the end!” Bokuto countered. “I barely passed high school because of this, and the only reason I’m in college is because I was scouted for volleyball and my parents are filthy rich. I mean, I just wish my brain would actually let me do work. Sometimes I feel like my brain just exists to be fucked up. Like I’m nothing but a fucked up brain,” Bokuto finished, putting it somewhat nicer than what was actually going through his head; which was basically an unending torrent of screaming.

Kuroo looked at him for half a moment, processing the emotional spiel that was just given to him. “That’s not true,” he said. With a bit of hesitation, he apologized again.

Bokuto blinked. Why had he told him that? Why had he said that? He didn’t have to say that. It’s not like Kuroo could help anyways. Or wanted to. 

Bokuto went back to failing at doing his project. Kuroo waited around for an answer for about five seconds before realizing Bokuto wasn’t going to reply. 

“Is there any way I can help? Or do you–”

“No,” Bokuto interrupted, zoning in on his blank piece of paper rather than Kuroo. “I’m fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Kuroo seemed uncomfortable.

He seemed like he hadn’t liked what Bokuto had said, and frankly, Bokuto wouldn’t have blamed him if he didn’t like Bokuto. Bokuto didn’t even like Bokuto. 

Nobody liked sad Bokuto. Nobody liked anxious Bokuto. Nobody liked discouraged, dejected, feeling-like-a-complete-fuckup Bokuto.

And when Bokuto breaks, everyone leaves.

Bokuto thought about his brain that everyone thought was broken as he tried to do homework. He himself didn't understand how it worked. Didn't understand why he couldn't function as everyone else and just  _ do his goddamn homework. _

Bokuto liked solving things, getting answers right, completing brain teasers, etc; it gave him a sense of accomplishment. He liked solving puzzles because he couldn't even solve himself. 

But he was by no means good at them. That frustrated him too. To not even be good at the things you enjoyed. That really sucked. 

He struggled to bring his head back from feeling sorry for himself. He moved to his room, silenced his phone, tried to remove any sort of possible distraction that might inhibit him; tried to focus, study, organize his perpetually scattered thoughts. He couldn't. 

Bokuto decided to call Akaashi. 

He picked up on the first ring. 

"What is it?" Akaashi answered.

“I-I’m having trouble,” Bokuto said. Akaashi hadn’t even replied yet but Bokuto could feel the mood change from miles away. He stared out his window, focusing on nothing in particular. He wasn’t really thinking of anything but it felt like his mind was just talking and talking and talking. Bokuto didn’t register that Akaashi’d replied at first until he was halfway through repeating himself.

“Homework! Sorry, yeah, homework. I don’t know what any of this is and I can’t focus and–”

Akaashi interrupted him, “Did you remember to take your meds today?”

Bokuto stopped and felt something inside of him drop.  _ What a dumb fucking idiot. Of course it was the meds. Of course you forgot to take your stupid meds. _

“Auh, god damn it! You’re right, I forgot!” Bokuto yelled into the phone, “Thanks Akaashi!” His yells sounded the same, but he knew Akaashi could hear his voice break. 

A faint sigh came from the phone. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

For whatever reason, the fact that Akaashi didn’t say any more somehow made Bokuto feel worse. But he also knew that Akaashi was tired. He could tell by the exhaust in his voice that didn’t used to be there, and the way he said even less than usual, and the way it only started happening when Bokuto called him. He and Akaashi both knew that a bad mood could turn into something way worse, and that’s when Akaashi had to leave.

He managed to yell out a response, so Akaashi said his goodbyes and hung up.

Bokuto felt like screaming. He could feel the pressure building in the back of his throat., threatening to tear out and wake the quiet apartment. He bowed his head and stared at his feet. The noise buzzing inside his skull was killing him. With each second ticked by another thought. Some of them were random; there and then gone from his memory, but he clung to the ones that hurt him, making himself dig into the pain and feel its full intensity. 

_ Worthless little boy. _

_ Untalented. Pointless. Undisciplined. _

_ Everyone else can pay attention, so why can't you? _

Pain pulsed inside his skull, his heart raced and frustration built a poisonous tower of self-hatred inside him. 

He felt the tears rolling down his face before he could stop them 

_ Pathetic. _

He wanted to scream, but there was no use. He decided to go quietly to bed.

The next morning he woke up and wished things were different. He opened his eyes and everything was exactly the same. 

Every fucking time he opened his eyes it was all the same. His scenery could change, his situation could change, but his fucked up brain was a constant. 

Bokuto desperately wanted to lay in bed all day and stare at the ceiling. He couldn't. Already a few seconds after waking up his mind was itching for something to do and he needed to move. 

He stood up, feeling the cold wood floor on his bare feet. Bokuto took a deep breath and tried to be okay. 

He tried to tell himself everything would be alright. 

Bokuto was a terrible liar. 

He walked into the kitchen to make food he didn't want to eat, and saw Daishou was already up. Realizing he must've slept in, he went to check his phone for the time but ended up awkwardly touching his own butt with his phone absent from his pocket.

For some unfathomable reason this bothered him. How he couldn't even remember to grab his phone when for everyone else it was natural instinct. He felt anger rise up inside him, and pure contempt for himself took hold. 

"Fuck!" he yelled. One more thread of his dwindling sanity snapped at the small incident. 

"Hey," Daishou said, stopping in the midst of drinking out of the milk carton, "You okay?"

"Fine," Bokuto snapped back, turning and heading back to his room, forgetting about breakfast. He didn’t need food anyways. He didn’t deserve it.

He slammed his door behind him. 

Several more instances happened over the next few days. Pressure was building in Bokuto's head and he wasn't sure how much longer he could take the pain. He tried calling Akaashi but returned calls were starting to become less frequent.

Bokuto hated being ignored. It reminded him of his parents. Being ignored brought back years of pain forgotten by those who were supposed to care about you. Being ignored made Bokuto feel isolated and alone. 

Akaashi had always been there, and he'd assumed he always would be, but Akaashi continued to distance himself ever since Bokuto went to college. And it hurt immensely. You never really appreciate someone until you can feel yourself losing them. 

He tried to put Akaashi from his mind, but he couldn't. Ever since his conversation with Kuroo in the park he'd been thinking about Akaashi. He didn't like it. He didn't like not knowing how to feel, though he rarely knew how to feel. 

Bokuto was unsolvable. Everyone else seemed to think he was simple, but really, no one could figure him out. Not even Bokuto knew. Not even Akaashi.

All Bokuto could do was feel. When he was upset, he couldn't cope, couldn't talk, couldn't think. All he could do was feel and endure, or wait for someone else to help him. 

He couldn't even help himself. He didn't even know himself. How sad was that?

He certainly didn't know how to feel about Akaashi. Akaashi was an even bigger mystery to him than he was to himself.

Bokuto didn't know  _ how _ to feel. He felt, and felt with intensity, but he didn't know how to deal with feeling; instead he clung to others to do it for him. To tell him what to do and be. He played by their rules, not his. He depended so heavily on other people he forgot what it was really like to do something for yourself. Bokuto liked doing things for himself, but every time he did someone was always disappointed. Whether it be his parents or his team, or even himself, he always let someone down. 

If he let other people think for him, he couldn't let them down. 

So that's what he did. He felt, but he contained it. He thought, but he kept his mouth shut. He lived in emotional silence. Every emotion he voiced was only a fraction of what he was keeping inside. And he voiced a  _ lot _ of emotions. 

All this silence was crushing him. 

All this pain would overflow.

Bokuto was tearing at the seams. Over the next week he let out spits of rage and frustration. He cried too. He tried to cry silently but nothing about Bokuto was silent or still. He hated that about himself, he hated how he couldn't keep quiet, how he couldn't focus, hated who he was. 

He hated the fact that he was different than everyone else. 

His mind was brimming with self hatred, his fake confidence had been diminished, his energy depleted. His body was still energetic, but his mind was exhausted. He was exhausted of being himself. Why couldn't he just fucking  _ focus. _ That seemed to be the question everyone was asking. 

Recently he couldn't even sleep to get away.

Bokuto wanted to tear himself apart. He wanted to rip himself limb from limb. He wanted to inflict the pain that he felt inside his head everywhere else. Bokuto wanted to tear himself apart – he wanted ruination, pain, ultimately death – but he couldn't. So he'd have to settle for shredding the rest of the world to pieces. 

He didn't feel himself stand up, he didn't feel his fist collide with the wall, all he could feel was the screaming inside his head. The chaos that would never let him go. He felt like he would never be happy, like he never had been. How could he be happy with the endless noise that were his thoughts? 

He hit the wall again, feeling it this time, relishing in the pain. He hit it again. And again. And again. He screamed, frustration spilling over and emptying into his life. The messiness inside his mind taking over everything else. He was about to scream again, but suddenly Kuroo opened the door. 

"What's wrong?" Kuroo's voice was serious and soft, and all that sympathy made Bokuto want to put his fist through his jaw and tell him he could never understand.

"I can't fucking do my work," Bokuto replied flatly, once again quelling the constant frustration that lived inside him. 

"Why don't you come out here and I'll help you?" Kuroo said, surveying Bokuto's wreck of a room with distaste.

"Fuck you," Bokuto said, noticing how his eyes swept his room, "Like you're any better."

"Yeah but you're usually a neat freak," he paused, "I'm just worried about you."

Bokuto hesitated. He wanted to stay in his room and probably punch the wall some more. Instead he reluctantly gathered up his school supplies and went to study with Kuroo in the living room. 

About a half an hour in and it was clear this wasn't helping. 

Bokuto was reading the pages but none of the information went to his head. He kept having to go back and reread. He wasn't making progress. He kept getting distracted by the birds on the fire escape, and the various constant noises in their apartment that had never bothered him before. Kuroo was gradually growing more and more frustrated with him, clearing his throat to jolt him back to reality. His throat was starting to hurt. 

When Bokuto got randomly upset for the millionth time Kuroo lost it. 

"Can you please just focus?" he snapped. 

And with those words, the very last thread holding Bokuto together snapped at those all too familiar words. 

He started unwinding. Felt the pressure building in his throat. The tears burning behind his eyes.  

_ "Why can't you just pay attention?" a teacher's voice rings. Singling him out in front of the entire class, everyone snickers behind their hands. Why can't the pathetic little boy just focus? _

_ "Freak!" another voice echoes. They yell at him because he is chewing on his shirt sleeve. Because he is shaking his leg. Because the teachers who thought they were being kind pointed out that he was different. Because the teachers who knew they were being cruel pointed out he was different, too. Because he can't just focus, because he can’t just sit still, because he can’t just be quiet, because he can’t, can’t can’t. _

_ "Please listen, Bokuto-san," Akaashi's voice says, exhausted. _

Bokuto breaks. He finally breaks. Akaashi was the kindest of them all, but still he didn't understand.

Bokuto didn't feel anything for a moment. For a moment he was gone, somewhere else. Perhaps he is where he belongs. Elsewhere. What a beautiful thing it is to be elsewhere. 

And then he shattered. 

He started crying, quietly at first, then it shifted to loud desperate sobs. Sobs loud enough to shake the room.

Kuroo jumped back, startled. Bokuto curled up on the floor, holding his head between his hands so tightly it seemed like he was going to break his own skull between loud, terrible cries. 

Kuroo stared at him with unfathomable shock, unsure of what to do. Bokuto let out a scream and it was sad and desperate and Kuroo didn't know how to help. Daishou ran out from his room, a look of panic and terror on his face. He saw Bokuto on the floor in the center of the living room and looked up at Kuroo. 

Kuroo knew something wrong but he didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to admit a friend he loved was in true deep pain. 

"It's…” He looked down at Bokuto, unsure of everything: who he was, what was happening, what was wrong. “It’s just… a temper tantrum," he told Daishou. When he looked back up, Daishou was met with aching eyes; something that conveyed such a hopeless emotion that it couldn’t be said aloud.

The room went dead silent. An eerie silence gripped Kuroo and Daishou with fear after the loud, unending noise. Slowly, Bokuto stood up.

Bokuto looked at them, pure rage on his face, tears streamed quietly from his eyes. He looked like he was going to attack them.

"This isn't a temper tantrum," he whispered, barely audible. 

Bokuto screamed again, turned to the nearest wall, and put his fist through it. 

Kuroo was shaking with fear and Daishou looked ill, like he was about to cry.

"Bokuto, please stop," Kuroo said softly. He reached his hand out helplessly, though it didn’t reach Bokuto.

"I can't," Bokuto sobbed. He collapsed on the floor once more "I can't stop."

Daishou looked like he was about to collapse himself, "It's okay," he offered.

"IT'S NOT OKAY!" Bokuto screamed, and Daishou flinched. "It's never okay," he panted. "Why isn't it okay?"

Kuroo wanted to go over to his friend but he was too afraid, "I don't know."

"Why isn't it like the movies, Kuroo? Why can't I know how I feel about the people I love? About Akaashi? Why can't I like myself? Why can't I  _ focus? _ " he whispered. 

All his questions went unanswered for a moment.

_ "Why am I like this?" _ Bokuto asked the universe as he cried. The universe did not answer. But Kuroo did. 

"Because life isn't the movies, Bokuto. It's never going to be like the movies. Nothing is ever going to work out exactly the way you want it to. The person you used to love will probably leave you and you have to get over it. People in the movies don't have things wrong with their brains. They don't have real struggles. That's why it's so shocking when your favorite actor is convicted of drug crimes, or kill themselves. Because in the movies, none of that exists. In the movies the biggest problem is worrying about that one person you kind of like. In the movies, people don't struggle, because they're not in charge of their own life; they’re optimistic and healthy and they know how it all ends. But you know what? We have struggles, we have pain, we have next to nothing going for us. But you know what we can do? We can take what we have and make it good. We get to live life, and yeah life sucks, but so does film," A stream of silent tears fell down Kuroo’s face. He glanced at Daishou with an unreadable sadness on his face. He then looked back to Bokuto. 

"I don't think I can make it good..." Bokuto whispered. 

He screamed again. 

"Call Akaashi," Daishou mouthed. So Kuroo did.

When Akaashi arrived, Bokuto was screaming, he'd been screaming for over half an hour. The pain inside him was just too great to keep inside. 

When Akaashi saw him he broke. It wasn't like how Bokuto broke, it was silent and wordless and mostly unnoticeable, but he did nonetheless. 

"What the fuck?" he asked loudly. 

"Akaashi?" Bokuto whimpered. He turned his head and saw Akaashi standing at the entrance to the living room, an unreadable expression painted on his face.

He couldn't stand the pain in Bokuto's voice, but instead of feeling empathy he felt frustration. 

"Bokuto, control yourself," he said. 

Those words hurt Bokuto more than punching through the wall had. He sat down on the floor and cried silently, looking like a chided child. 

"What the fuck," Akaashi said again, "Why do you guys expect me to be the adult here? I'm tired, okay. You two are his friends, you can help him, too."

"Akaashi you can't treat him like a burden," Kuroo replied, still shaking. 

Akaashi’s face twisted into something dark. "I'm not! I'm just..." he trailed off, "I want to be able to help, I really do, but… It gets to be too much. I can’t handle everyone else’s struggles on top of my own. I’m not emotionally available at every beck and call. I can’t be the deciding factor between life and death all the time.”

Akaashi, usually impassive and level-headed, wore a broken expression; like a hurricane had wreaked havoc in his mind and left nothing but emptiness behind.

"He's your friend." Daishou hissed, unfathomable anger behind his words.

"He's my friend. But I’m not his therapist," Akaashi said, voice cold, expression masked, "You two deal with it." 

With that, he turned around and left. He closed the door softly but it still shook the entire apartment. 

Bokuto stopped screaming, but he seemed even worse. He rocked back and forth on the floor while Kuroo talked him down. Daishou held his head in his hands as he sat silently on the couch. They all fell asleep in the living room – even Bokuto, as his body was too exhausted to fight sleep. 

Kuroo was the last to fall asleep. He found himself staring at the new hole in the wall. 

Everything was broken. 

Maybe Bokuto was right. 

How could you take something broken and make it good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but kuroo's spiel near the end was inspired by a stanza from the song [this house is a circus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8VxgJC5f8M) by arctic monkeys, and this entire song reminds us of our fic tbh so give it a listen if you're interested.


	13. Gordon Ramsay Is Out To Get Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good luck to anyone taking ap exams this week (including me yeet). i hope you guys like this chapter and hopefully the next will be up soon.
> 
> -cameron
> 
>  
> 
> this chapter is kinda a breather from the angst, but the angst will Return soon. anyways i hope yall enjoy this chapter
> 
> -esmae

**1:00 PM:** Homework was assigned.

 

 **8:04 PM:** Kuroo made a huge mistake. He started the coffee maker.

 

 **8:07 PM:** Kuroo made yet another mistake: he drank a cup of coffee.

 

 **8:09 PM:** Bokuto drank a cup of coffee. As did Daishou.

 

 **10:16 PM:** Little to no homework was completed, but everyone decided to go to bed anyways.

 

 **10:47 PM:** Kuroo couldn't sleep. Kuroo could rarely sleep, but the way he couldn't sleep now felt almost ominous. It was different than his regular insomnia – it's that feeling when your mother calls you by your entire name and you don't know what the fuck you did, but you’re also stuck in an astral plane and unable to respond despite the fear. Once again accepting defeat, Kuroo resolved to stare at his ceiling for the rest of the night when he heard a faint knock at his door. Kuroo rolled reluctantly out of bed and opened the door. There was Bokuto (clad in matching XXL Hello Kitty pajamas) and Daishou dressed normally.

"I can't sleep," Bokuto said.

"That much was obvious," Kuroo said, squashing his pettiness and the urge to ask why he got Daishou up before him.

"Let's watch Cory in the House," Bokuto declared more than asked.

Daishou sighed, "We've watched every season like four times. Please can we watch something else."

"The B–"

"Don't you fucking dare say The Bee Movie. We've seen that eight times, all viewed against my will."

"Shrek's a classic," Bokuto said.

“A classic for _you,”_ Daishou pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we watch something good for once holy shit,"

"HoW dAre yOU!" Bokuto yelled, "I'll have you know Shrek is amazing."

“How about Full House?” Daishou offered.

Bokuto gasped. “I _love_ Full House!”

“Yeah, but we gotta watch something bad,” Kuroo said.

“Oooh, you’re right,” Bokuto put his hand on his chin in thought.

“Aw, what?” Daishou complained. “Why would we watch something bad?”

“Because it’s funny,” Kuroo answered.

“How about we just watch a _comedy_ then. Something that’s _supposed_ to be funny. Like _Full House_.”

“No.”

Kuroo snickered. "Let's watch Gakkou no Kaidan.”

"NO."

They finally settled on watching Shrek the Musical, as Daishou had never seen it before and eventually got tired of arguing. Unfortunately both Kuroo and Bokuto had seen it way too many times and sang along to every single song.

Daishou kept his arms crossed and his face still throughout the entire duration of the movie but his eyes screamed pain and loss.

 

 **12:59 AM:** Even after the movie had finished no one was tired and no one went back to their rooms. They dicked around for a while before getting off the couch to Not Sleep. Daishou got papico out of the freezer and poured himself a glass of milk.

Suddenly Bokuto appeared behind him, uncomfortably close.

"Can I put my hand in your glass of milk?" Bokuto asked, quiet enough to be considered strange but not entirely creepy.

"You keep your dirty hands out of my glass of milk," Daishou replied. He wouldn't process the weirdness of the question until the next day when he would immediately go "what the fuck?"

 

 **1:16 AM:** Bokuto was laying flat on his back on the floor underneath the coffee table. Daishou took up most of the couch, _Snake_ draped across his shoulders. Kuroo stood in the kitchen looking into the room from the bar, as far away from that reptilian creature as possible.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, breaking the indefinite silence like that one kid at a sleepover who just wouldn’t shut up when everyone was about to fall asleep. “Let’s watch Sonic Underground.”

Daishou turned towards him with a narrow-eyed glare that matched his dear pet’s. “You say that like it’s a joke.”

“It is. Sonic Underground was awful.”

“Sonic Underground was my _childhood,”_ Daishou said.

“Doesn’t mean it was good, though,” Bokuto piped from under the table. Kuroo laughed.

Daishou stood up fervently. “It was a _good show._ You haven’t even seen it, Bokuto!”

Kuroo grinned. “We should watch it, then!”

“Not if you two are going to be making fun of it!”

“Okay, the theme song is good, I’ll give it that,” Kuroo admitted, “But seriously, who gets the idea to make Sonic royalty, a part of triplets, _and_ underground rock stars with super powers? That’s not Sonic at all.”

“Whoa, Sonic does all that?” Bokuto yelled. Forgetting he was mostly underneath the coffee table, Bokuto attempted to launch himself into a sitting position but ended up getting the wind knocked out of him when his chest collided with the edge of the table.

“At least Sonic doesn’t get a weird human girlfriend like in Sonic ‘06!” Daishou retaliated as Bokuto wheezed and coughed on the floor.

“I won’t defend any Sonic game that came out after 2005.” Kuroo crossed his arms and looked away like a disappointed father who didn’t want to acknowledge that his son’s life was generally falling into a mediocre pit of despair.

Bokuto finally recovered from his incident. “So are we gonna watch it or what?”

Kuroo and Daishou gave opposing answers simultaneously. They looked at each other, a smirk on one and a scowl on the other.

“We’re not gonna watch it,” Daishou repeated.

“Okay, okay, I won’t make fun of it if you put that horrid reptilian creature you’re holding back into its tank.” Kuroo said.

Daishou thought this over for a second, then grudgingly stood up to dispose of _Snake_ into his room.

Bokuto scrambled off the floor and onto Daishou’s spot on the couch in an instant and swept up the remote to the TV. Kuroo ambled over and plopped down next to him and made a conscious effort to take up as much space as possible. Daishou came back, took one look at the changed scenery, sighed, and settled for sitting on the floor against Bokuto’s side of the couch while mumbling something about it being _too early for this shit._

They sat in an agonizing silence as Bokuto fumbled with typing in the name of the show letter by letter.

“Oh my _god_ please let me do it,” Daishou begged.

“No, no! I got this!” Bokuto insisted. He stuck his tongue out in immense concentration, then accidentally cleared the search. Kuroo swiped the remote from Bokuto’s hands and tossed it to Daishou.

Daishou searched up the show and opened up the episode list.

“Wait. What the fuck?” He said.

“What?” Asked Kuroo.

“This isn’t the first episode,” Daishou replied. He took a closer look at the list. “Episode four is the first episode. What…?”

“Ooh! Are they like deleted episodes or something?” Bokuto asked.

Kuroo sighed. “Let’s just start from the beg–”

“WAIT,” Daishou yelled, “These are the Origins!”

“The what.”

“The first three episodes are the Origin episodes. Why would they put those first, what the fuck?”

“Maybe it made things less confusing this way?” Bokuto offered.

“No. This completely ruins everything,” Daishou said, “No buildup, no nothing. I can’t believe they’d do this.”

“Dude, it’s just a kid’s show,” Kuroo said.

“We will NOT watch this.” Daishou declared.

“Oh my god.”

“Aw, c’mon, I wanna watch it!” Bokuto said.

“No,” Daishou said, “We aren’t allowed.”

Bokuto lunged down and grabbed the remote from Daishou’s hand and hit play, ignoring the yells from Daishou.

Daishou got up and left the room. Kuroo grinned and relaxed into the couch as the episode started. A few seconds later he could hear Daishou returning. When the footsteps stopped somewhere behind the couch Kuroo grew curious, so he turned around and was met face-to-face with _Snake._ Kuroo screamed and leapt off the couch while Daishou was doubled over cackling.

“It’s too early for this,” Kuroo grumbled.

 

 **2:26 AM:** Trying to sleep when it was physically impossible was just about the most boring thing in the entire universe. Daishou was laying on the couch, arm draped over his eyes dramatically, Bokuto was sprawled out on the floor, muttering angrily at his textbook, and Kuroo was curled up in the swivel chair, humming the Sonic Underground theme song. All of them felt like absolute shit, and since it was Sunday they were going to feel like even more shit in the morning. Nonetheless, a type of pained calm had fallen over the group.

It all went to shit when the upstairs neighbor started vacuuming.

The apartment building had five floors, or to put simply, a fuck ton of people. It was always loud, always alive; though normally most of the noise generated from Apartment 420 itself.

Even Bokuto vacuumed the apartment at all hours of the night.  

However when the person directly above them did it it was absolutely _unacceptable._

Their otherwise silent suffering was suddenly voiced (loudly) when they heard the all too familiar sound of suction machine.

"Who the fuck vacuums at two-thirty in the morning," Kuroo protested.

"Bokuto actually," Daishou replied.

"Yeah, but I can physically fight Bokuto when he does that, it's not like I can go up to apartment 520 and throw down," he paused, "Actually..."

They all went back to quietly attempting and failing to sleep. Surely the noise would be over shortly.

It wasn't. They vacuumed for an hour and a half. An hour. And a half.

Finally Daishou decided it was time to take action.

"Kuroo, go get the vacuum."

Kuroo considered making some sort of comeback but his mind was too tired to be salty, so he went and retrieved the vacuum from its usual position under Bokuto’s bed. Daishou was standing on top of the swivel chair when he came back. He plugged in the vacuum.

"What'd you want with this?"

"Hand it to me."

Kuroo realized Daishou's plan and grinned.

At three in the morning Daishou Suguru was vacuuming the ceiling out of pettiness and the entire experience was so surreal that Bokuto and Kuroo were laughing their asses off.

After ten minutes, their neighbors vacuum turned off in shame.

Daishou sat down in the swivel chair with the pettiest fucking smirk Kuroo had ever seen.

 

 **4:01 AM:** It had only been fifteen minutes since the vacuuming incident, yet everyone was once again bored. They flicked lazily through Bokuto's parents Netflix which they never used.

Most of their entertainment was courtesy of Bokuto's parents, as they were, well, fucking rich. Bokuto was the only person who used the accounts, but that was about the only luxury of his parent's enormous wealth he took advantage of. Bokuto, in all other senses, was as poor as the rest of them.

"I'm _bored_ ," Bokuto complained.

"Kuroo's fault," Daishou mumbled angrily under his breath.

Kuroo looked aghast, "Excuse you?"

"Who decided to make coffee late at night?"

"Okay first of all it was like eight o'clock so that's hardly late at night, grandma. Second of all, did I force the coffee down your throats? Did I hold you at gunpoint and threaten to kill your loved ones if you didn’t drink that coffee? I don't believe I did. So really you all brought this hell upon yourself," Kuroo snapped.

"That's like saying the dealer isn't at fault for dealing drugs."

"Whatever."

"That means I'm right," Daishou grinned.

Kuroo glared, "Whatever."

"GUYS HOLY SHIT," Bokuto yelled at a volume that made the both of them jump.

"What?"

"I have an idea."

"Oh no."

"Bokuto no," Daishou said.

"Bokuto yes."

"What's your idea?" Kuroo asked, bracing himself for the worst.

Bokuto was attempting to contain himself, "You won't believe what was on sale the other day."

"Oh my god what did you buy?"

Bokuto giggled, ran to his room, and shortly returned with a small box with some sort of strange colorful imagery on it. He held it out proudly for them to see. “Flavored lube!”

“Um, what?” Kuroo said.

"Yeah, well, I don't know about you guys, but I am _not_ sucking anyone's dick here." Daishou stated.

"Yeah but–"

"Why the fuck did you buy that anyways?" Kuroo asked.

"It was on sale okay."

"You can't just buy everything that's on sale.”

"Okay but listen: I was thinking that since no one here is having sex anytime soon–"

"Hey!" Daishou protested. Kuroo snorted at the mere notion of Daishou fucking anything but a plant.

"Whatever," Bokuto replied, "We should do shots of it."

"Oh my god," Daishou pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to convince himself this was all one hellish dream.

"I'm in," Kuroo said.

Daishou glanced at him, a 'what the fuck' expression on his face.

Kuroo shrugged, "I don't know about you, but I have nothing better to do."

So that was how all of them ended up doing shots of flavored lube at three in the morning.

Kuroo gagged as he tried to get the fifth shot of it down.

"God why the fuck are we doing this," he choked.

Bokuto was spitting in the sink and Daishou had a weird, slightly pained expression on his face but otherwise was nonreactive.

"It tastes funny," Daishou said, still holding the mildly disgusted expression.

Kuroo was still choking but Bokuto had mostly recovered.

"Do you know what it's actually supposed to taste like?" Bokuto snickered.

"No, but it tastes weird. Here, hand me the container."

"It's supposed to taste like cherries," Bokuto said as he handed Daishou the bottle.

Kuroo started choking even more as he laughed.

"What?"

"Is that a fucking innuendo?"

"Oh grow up," Daishou scoffed, returning his attention back to the container. He scanned the label and his eyes widened. "BOKUTO," he screeched suddenly.

"WHAT DID I DO?"

"THIS IS _EXPIRED_."

"OH MY GOD! No wonder it was on sale," Bokuto mused.

"This is expired by like six fucking years. This lube is older than the IKEA Monkey."

"Oh my god," Kuroo said, seemingly recovered from said expired lube.

 _"I did five shots of this,"_ Daishou wheezed. He held onto the counter with an iron grip, incredulous.

Bokuto panicked, "Are we gonna die?"

"We're not gonna die," Kuroo replied, exhausted. “At least, I hope not,” he mumbled under his breath.

"Thank god," Bokuto said, then his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Uh oh,” Daishou said, ”What is it?"

"I just got another idea."

 

 **4:20 AM:** "Are we all clear on the rules?"

"Bokuto, you didn't even explain the rules."

"Okay then, let's get started.”

Daishou sighed, "Would you _please_ tell us the rules."

"One: you can use anything in the kitchen. Two: it must be done in 15 minutes. Three: whoever loses is not allowed to use eating utensils for the next week. Four: it must include at least five tablespoons of the lube. Five: I make the rules and my word is final," Bokuto put on a mock serious voice but looked childishly gleeful.

Kuroo frowned, "Why do you get to be the judge?"

"Because I can beat you guys in a cooking contest any day of the week at any time of day."

“Hey, I’m a good cook,” Kuroo defended.

"Why are we doing this again?" Daishou sighed again. He was far too exhausted to do this shit and frankly his arms hurt from vacuuming the ceiling for 10 minutes. He didn't hear anything else that was said though, as he was staring at a gnat that was flying around the apartment.

"Seriou–" Kuroo began.

"ON YOUR MARKS. GET SET. GO. YOU HAVE 15 MINUTES," Bokuto's ridiculously loud hollering cut Kuroo off.

After recovering from their shattered eardrums, Daishou and Kuroo began to search the kitchen for anything that would make the lube taste less disgusting. Bokuto took cooking very seriously, and had laid out stations on the counter with a variety of cooking utensils as well as two new jars of lube for both of them (Bokuto had bought 5 containers). Kuroo had strawberry flavored lube, while Daishou had lime. Both of them were as equally expired as the kind they had taken shots of.

Bokuto unfortunately found the need to narrate whatever they were doing in the kitchen while he watched from the swivel chair.

"Kuroo's going for the eggs; a strange, contrasting flavor. Will this pay off or will this be a fatal mistake?"

Bokuto loved cooking shows. He had even requested to do official interviews with them in the broom closet, Chopped style, but they had both harshly denied. ("I spent enough of my life in the closet.")

Bokuto narrated Kuroo's every move and was eventually yelled at for it, while Daishou snickered.

Bokuto eventually got bored and started to narrate what Daishou was doing but he got about five seconds in before getting deeply concerned.

"Daishou, what the fuck are you doing?"  

Daishou took a moment to process his name had been said, and turned around slowly, as if he wasn't entirely in control of his body.

He had taken the top off the bay leaves and poured all of them into the jar of lube. The bags under his eyes had turned into dark semicircles.

"I have no fucking idea."

He went back to doing what he was doing, leaving Bokuto mildly disturbed. Bokuto then left to go "get ready" for judging the "lube food competition."

Daishou put his concoction in the microwave, set for 10 minutes, and unsurprisingly played on his phone while he waited.

Kuroo was making omelets. Daishou had mysteriously disappeared. When he came back he was fully clad in normal clothes.

"Um."

"What?" Daishou replied, with half his usual snark.

"Why are you dressed?" Kuroo asked.

Daishou scoffed, "Because I'm going to school?"

Kuroo just gaped.

Daishou grabbed the lemon juice out of the fridge and started chugging it.

Kuroo went from mildly confused to _holy fucking shit what the fuck,_ in the matter of a second.

"What the fuck," he said softly.

Daishou paused. "What?"

"Daishou it's 4:30 in the morning, you're fully dressed, and you're drinking straight lemon juice out of the container."

"Oh."

There was a loud crackling noise like something was on fire. Daishou snapped back to reality.   

"SHIT THE MICROWAVE," he said. He wildly looked for a place to put the lemon juice and then promptly dropped it on the floor.

He opened the microwave and sure enough the tub of lube had melted as well as the various assortment seasoning he had put into it.

There was a long stretch of silence as the both stared at the melted blackened mess of a plastic jar of lube in the microwave.

"It's still better than white people food," Daishou finally said.

Kuroo let out a strangled choking noise and then burst out laughing.

It wasn't even that funny, but neither of them had gotten any sleep and the entire night had felt like the emotional manifestation of a liminal space.

The entire night had been particularly unfunny but incredibly surreal which had a humor all its own.

 "You were fucking drinking lemon juice," Kuroo wheezed, "and you vacuumed the ceiling."

"We did shots of flavored lube. What the fuck," Daishou was laughing now as well as the mound of plastic let off a toxic smelling of smoke in the microwave.

In that moment it was like the past disappeared. Like pain didn't exist. In that moment it was like all that existed was laughter.

But that wasn't reality. It existed only in fleeting fantasies and moments. A world without pain just wasn't feasible.

By the time Bokuto walked in, clad in a chef costume he got from god knows where, they had calmed down and were cleaning up the kitchen.

He took one look at the melted plastic and sighed, "I guess Kuroo wins by default." He then began to eat the strawberry flavored lube omelets and claimed they were "not that bad." Daishou complained about not being allowed to use utensils for the next week, claiming that Bokuto didn’t even try his; to which Bokuto responded he didn’t want to get cancer anytime soon.

After that they went back to watching shitty movies, eventually watching The Bee Movie together for the ninth time, and Daishou was too tired to complain.

Kuroo repeated 'ya like jazz' every five minutes since the movie had begun. Daishou kept throwing shit at him but he went on, undeterred.

"I'm gonna get a parrot," Kuroo stopped as the infamous picnic fantasy scene came on, "and train it to say 'ya like jazz' and nothing else," he whispered.

"Shut the fuck up and watch the shitty movie," Daishou snapped.

When it got to around 6:30 everyone started falling asleep.

It had been a good, albeit sleepless, night. The night had been filled with laughter. It was exhausting, but relieving. A night to forget, not something that would last, or be remembered. But the ability to forget the night is what made it light instead of heavy. Ignorance really was bliss.

But some things demanded to be remembered.


	14. Ready To Make History, Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW so the next chapter is like the fastest we've written anything ever so this is a p quick update !! also holy shit we're so close to 200 kudos??!?!?! thank u guys omg.  
> congrats for everyone that took ap exams! we survived!! now we anxiously wait for july.. hah...
> 
> \- cameron

Bokuto was crying. He had been crying for over an hour and the worst part was that he didn't even know why. He was completely overwhelmed. Every emotion he had was being felt at its full and terrible force. His crying was a sad and broken sound and the entire apartment heard it. They had the decency to leave him alone.

Bokuto didn't even know why he was upset. He had gotten an extension on his project from last week, received a 68, and his professor left it at that.

He should be fine. He wasn't.

Bokuto was trying to piece himself back together, but it was taking too long.

Despite appearances Bokuto was a relatively patient person. He accepted things took time, after all, he did not get good at volleyball overnight. But he was so fucking sick and tired of waiting. He'd been waiting his entire life; waiting for something to just click and for him to finally be okay.  

He was scared that he would be like this forever. Always unable, always inferior.

He had a terrible vision of himself ten years in the future: clasping his head between his hands, crying, alone, afraid, and angry.

He cried harder. Bokuto was terrified of being broken forever.

 _Snap out of it,_ he told himself. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, stifled a scream, and stood up to finish getting ready for school.

Bokuto couldn't stand the worried, sympathetic looks he got from Kuroo and Daishou. He poured himself a cup of coffee in a to-go cup and left, slamming the door behind him. He felt the tears streaming down his face before he processed them. He was angry at himself.

He always was.

Bokuto sighed, wiped his eyes, and went quietly to school.

 

The fact that he’d gotten extensions for the majority of his homework and had yet to even start on it didn’t help his mental status. He was exhausted. He'd stayed up every night for the past three days, staring at his blank worksheets and flashing cursors. He was always tired during volleyball the next day, but the physical exercise brought him at least some relief from the stress.

All the stress was starting to get to him. He had a constant headache that buzzed every time he tried to study. He was getting about 20 minutes of sleep each night, old anxious habits that died in junior high resurfaced. Worst of all he could feel himself isolating.

Bokuto spent the majority of the time in his room trying (and failing) to complete his homework. Everyone was concerned and he hated them for it. He wanted to be left alone. Every conversation he had was half hearted and lacked its normal energy.

Bokuto had lost the joy that lived inside him.

And it ached. It felt like someone had taken a knife and carved away a vital piece of him. Like they had cut away something as necessary as breathing. He felt a physical pain weighing on his soul. He missed something he didn't even know was there before.

Bokuto didn't feel whole. He felt like a lie; a pseudo human being. He wasn't used to feeling like this, and he hated the feeling.

 _Why stay alive if you're gonna be like this the rest of your godforsaken life?_ he wondered to himself. Why stay alive if you were just a fake? A destroyed version of your original self? What was the point in being if you couldn't be happy?

Bokuto realized he hadn't been paying attention to anything that was going on in class. He forced himself to pay attention but was quickly distracted by his thoughts once again.

 

Volleyball practice ended and Bokuto felt marginally better. That was quickly over when he remembered the shit load of homework which had to be completed in two days. He tried to think about something else, which didn't relieve the stress but at least he didn't have to think about it.

Unfortunately he ended up thinking about Akaashi.

Bokuto hadn't spoken to Akaashi since that night, which had been over a week ago. He missed him. He wanted to be back in high school again. School was hard, but he missed being surrounded by friends, he missed feeling useful on the volleyball team.  He had been exceptional in high school, but on a renowned college team, he was just average. 

Most of all he missed Akaashi.

He missed talking and laughing with him; missed the effortless conversation they made.

Bokuto missed the feeling he had around Akaashi.

Everything had changed dramatically and suddenly after high school. Everyone went their separate ways. They had futures to look forward to and dreams to achieve. Everyone left.

Bokuto should have moved on too. So why couldn't he? He was stuck stubbornly in the past, clinging to the fleeting feeling of happiness. Everyone had left and got on with their lives. Even Akaashi.

Bokuto had the horrible thought that he'd peaked in high school. That he'd never be better than who he was then. That ten years down the road he would still be reliving his glory days of being the high school volleyball team ace.

The thought made his hands shake. He was scared of the future and sick of the present. All he wanted to do was go back.

When Bokuto got home it was a shitshow.

Kuroo and Daishou were in the kitchen, arguing about something stupid once again. They seemed rather passionately involved in whatever they were bantering about, though when Bokuto walked in, they stopped dead, their faces filled with concern.

And it fucking pissed Bokuto off.

He didn't want their sympathy, he didn't need it. He wanted everything to feel as normal as possible, and the passive expressions they put on whenever he walked in the room weren’t helping.

He was about to say something, but he made the mistake of clenching his fist. It still hurt from punching the wall and must've shown because Kuroo said, "Hey, you need to bandage your hand."

Bokuto's response was an immediate and unwavering, "No." He walked out of the entryway and towards the hallway, Kuroo following behind him.

“Oi. You really should.” Kuroo said, voice a bit forceful. “It could get worse if it’s not taken care of.” He tried to reason with Bokuto, but Bokuto was facing the other way, stopped in the middle of the hall and temper slowly boiling. Kuroo suppressed a sigh. “Here, let me get my first aid–”

“I’m _fine!”_ Bokuto yelled, his shoulders tense. “I don’t want to bandage it.”

Kuroo looked confused and opened his mouth to respond but Bokuto cut him off, "If my hand is bandaged then they won’t let me play volleyball," he said.

"You'll still be able to train and stuff, you just won't be able to play and it will only be for a little bit," Kuroo said. “I know how it feels, Bokuto, but if you don’t let it heal properly it’ll get worse and you won’t be able to play for even longer and it’ll suck ass.”

Bokuto practically had steam coming from his ears at this point. He struggled to contain himself as he spun around and addressed Kuroo. "Listen, volleyball is the only thing that’s making me happy right now, the only thing that’s bringing me _any_ shred of joy. I'm not fucking bandaging it," he was growing restless. He'd been still for too long. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to be around them, didn't want to be talking.

"You really should–" Daishou started from the hall entrance.

"I said I'm not fucking bandaging it, okay?!" Bokuto wailed. Daishou flinched. Almost instantaneously Kuroo and Daishou's infuriating sympathy increased so dramatically Bokuto could feel it suffocating him.

"Fuck off," he seethed before storming off to his room and slamming the door behind him.

Bokuto slid down his door onto the floor and started crying. He did not cry quietly. He did not do anything quietly. He hated that about himself, he hated that he was loud and obnoxious, that he could not manage his emotions neatly and easily. He could not pack them away and crush them. His emotions demanded to be heard.  

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered to himself, "FUCK," he yelled, banging the back of his head against the door.

He started sobbing, clutching his head in his hands. He felt overwhelming fear and anger. He was shaking and crying and he wanted to scream. His desperate attempts to calm himself did nothing. He had no coherent thoughts it was all one big unending torrent of panic and frustration that he couldn't make out. His thoughts were buzzing so loud he could feel them vibrating in his ears. He held his head in his shaking hands, unable to do anything else but sit on the floor and cry.

He was terrified of the future. What if he failed a class and couldn't play volleyball, what if Akaashi never spoke to him again, what if he had to live with his parents. What ifs were running through his head and they were all worst case scenario.

 _What if I'm like this forever?_ was repeating on a loop throughout his mind.

Bokuto was terrified of being broken forever. Terrified of being unhappy for the rest of his life.

Bokuto was angry at himself for being so broken, for not being able to pull himself together. He was angry and afraid.

And lonely. God he was lonely. He was living in an apartment with his best friend and yet he'd never felt more alone. Maybe it was the fact that Kuroo and Daishou were preoccupied with each other and whatever past they shared, or that recently they’d been looking at him with that expression you usually reserve for those sick dog commercials. Or the fact that everyone treated him like he was still nine years old and didn’t know any better. Or the fact that the only person who didn’t wouldn’t even talk to him anymore.

He and Akaashi had been talking less and less ever since he graduated. Now they weren't talking at all.

Bokuto took a deep breath, wiped his eyes and dialed a number he knew by heart.

"Bokuto?" an exhausted voice sounded through Bokuto's tinny speaker.

"Akaashi?" Bokuto replied, voice rather even for someone who'd just been sobbing.

"I just woke up," Akaashi replied. It was 6:00 PM.

"Akaashi, I'm really–" Bokuto's voice cracked as he audibly began to cry again.

“I – I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood,” Akaashi said. Despite the hesitance before his reply, his words were said with unwelcoming force and an edge of aggravation.

Bokuto took a shaky breath in, at a loss for words. “W-What?”

"That means don't call me," Akaashi said, weariness taking over. His five word sentence started harsh but ended quieter, as if a pain completely foreign to Bokuto was hiding behind them.

"I-I-I’m sorry, Akaa–" Bokuto stuttered, but the line beeped before he could finish his sentence. The last remaining breath Bokuto had shakily left his lungs. He sat there, frozen with the phone up to his ear in utter shock. Slowly, slowly his hand moved away from his head.

Bokuto felt a scream building in his throat. Emotions overrode his senses, his rationality, his entire being.  

Bokuto couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, all he could do was feel.

His brain was screaming, but all he could do was sit on the floor and sob.

He slumped forwards against the floor and banged his fist on the floor so hard he shook the room.

Bokuto felt like he was made of electricity: jittery and unstable. It crackled through his bones and muscles, making him twitch and sob. He felt like he was about to explode into tiny, sputtering pieces of lightning.

Pain raged inside him, it howled and it ached and demanded to be wrought upon the world.

Bokuto was about to tear his room apart when his door opened abruptly.

"Bokuto," he heard Kuroo's voice but didn't turn to face him.

"Leave me the fuck alone," Bokuto said, voice shaking.

"No."

Bokuto stood up, turned around and glared, "Leave me alone," he repeated, and this time his voice was scarily even.

"Bokuto," Kuroo continued on undeterred. "What's wrong?" he asked simply, yet Bokuto felt the weight of those words.

“Too much for you to help with.” Bokuto replied.

“Can I come in?” Kuroo asked. Bokuto just exhaled sharply through his nose in a way that meant _whatever, I don’t fucking care at this point._ Kuroo took this as a yes (or maybe he didn’t and just ignored him) and sat down on the edge of Bokuto’s bed. “There’s no use being stubborn, Bokuto. Tell me what’s bothering you. I want to help.”

 _You don't fucking care. You will never understand. You can't help me. I can't be helped,_ Bokuto's head screamed in response. Instead, he thought over Kuroo’s words, then took a deep breath and let himself be helped.

"I can’t focus. I can't do my fucking work. I can't do anything. I used to be amazing at volleyball, now I'm just average and shit at everything else. I don't want to be _average_ at the only thing I’m good at and like," he paused. Kuroo opened his mouth to speak but Bokuto cut him off, "I feel so _different_ than everyone. I feel like I'm a gag, the punchline to a joke. Like people don't see that I have problems too, and if they do they don't care. And..." Bokuto trailed off. He looked over to the phone he’d practically thrown across the room and felt the weight in his chest grow heavier.

"You miss him," Kuroo said for him.

"Yeah," Bokuto replied and felt the tension go out of his body. It was something that, for whatever reason, his mind didn’t want to admit. He missed Fukurodani, he missed being the ace, he missed the attention, he missed his teammates, and he especially missed the person who changed his entire life – but the fact that things were changing again and they weren’t talking made Bokuto want to push the thought into the very back of his mind where he wouldn’t have to think or worry about it, so he could just move on and be a functioning adult. Honestly, thinking about Akaashi hurt.

"It'll work out," Kuroo said simply, interrupting Bokuto’s thoughts before they could spiral out of control again. “I think it’s just been a rough few weeks for the both of you, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever. It might take time, but maybe time is what it needs.”

“I’m tired of waiting,” Bokuto said.

“I know,” Kuroo said, “But it’s best to work yourself out before you try to put together a puzzle with broken pieces. Give him some time to figure himself out, and in the meantime I’ll help you get better too, okay?”

Bokuto thought over this advice, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Why don't you come out here and we'll help you with your homework?" Kuroo offered.

Bokuto let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds okay."

Kuroo grinned and stood up. He held out his hands for Bokuto, who still sat on the floor. “Alright, now, get up, you pesky owl,” he said, hoping his teasing tone would lighten things up. Bokuto grabbed his hands and Kuroo pulled him to his feet.

“What do you have to work on?” Kuroo asked.

Bokuto grabbed his bag and slung it over his front to pull out his work. “I’ve got some math stuff and a shittyass test coming up in science, plus a bunch of work I’m behind on.” Bokuto handed Kuroo a folder and his laptop.

“Alright. How about you go to the bathroom to freshen up, then grab a snack and some water and meet us in the living room. Sound good?” Kuroo said. Bokuto agreed, and Kuroo smiled and slapped Bokuto on the back before heading out of his room.

Bokuto rinsed off his face, fixed his hair, and looked in the mirror. He wasn’t sure who exactly it was staring back at him, but it must’ve been himself. He took a slow, deep breath and savored the feeling it gave him. His chest still felt heavy, but this was the start of expelling the feelings that weighed him down and replacing it with light, fresh air that his lungs seemed to lack these days. Yeah, Kuroo was right. Things could get better. At least he hoped so.

When Bokuto entered the living room with a bottle of water and an apple, Kuroo and Daishou had already taken Bokuto’s work and split it up into smaller, less overwhelming chunks.

“You ready?” Kuroo asked. Bokuto nodded and sat down at the coffee table with them. “Alright, so we made a list of the things you have to do, sorted by priority. Checking things off will make you feel more productive,” Kuroo said. He showed Bokuto the list he’d written down in Bokuto’s notebook. “So… looks like you’ve got missing work for history, math, and reading. Then some more work for math and reading due soon…” Kuroo pointed at the assignments on the notebook with his pen as Daishou and Bokuto watched over his shoulders. “And finally, that science test coming up on Tuesday.” At the bottom of the list, Kuroo wrote down “SCIENCE TEST” and underlined it. Twice.

“Way to make it look intimidating,” Daishou said. Kuroo waved him off and began pulling stuff out of Bokuto’s folder.

“Let’s get the missing work done first, yeah? It’ll be a good start on catching up and pulling your grade up.” Kuroo shuffled through the homework and pulled out the assignments for history. Kuroo took one look at the paper and suddenly understood why Bokuto felt so overwhelmed – blocks of instruction covered at least half the front page, with no break in between steps or anything. It was way too many words to be trying to look at at once.

The first history assignment was some shitty guided reading thing for the textbook. According to Bokuto, this was the professor’s way of making sure his students did their reading, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

They began reading through the chapter, and Bokuto, who couldn’t give less of a shit about history, had trouble collecting the information he read. When it became clear that he wasn’t getting very much out of this, Daishou had an idea.

“Hey, Bokuto, toss me that volleyball,” he said.

Bokuto reached over and grabbed one of the volleyballs he kept in the living room and tossed it to Daishou.

“Okay, let’s do this: how about whoever has the ball has to read a sentence or two from the book out loud, then we toss it to another person, who has to read the next part. Then, at the end of each page we’ll summarize the information and answer any questions from the guided reading. Sound good?”

Bokuto’s face lit up, “Yeah, let’s do it!”

Daishou started off by reading the first two sentences, then tossing the ball to Kuroo. Kuroo then read the next sentence, then passed it to Bokuto. As they went on, their pattern shifted to tossing to Bokuto every other sentence. Though he struggled at first, Bokuto became more fluent at summarizing the page’s information. For the first guided question, Kuroo asked Bokuto aloud and Bokuto gave his response verbally, while Kuroo typed it up on the laptop. Kuroo showed him the response he wrote and told him to follow it as a guideline. For the rest of the questions, Kuroo would continue to ask the question out loud, but then instructed Bokuto to type up the response he gave him onto the computer. Before he knew it, Bokuto completed the entire assignment.

“Hell yeah!” He yelled, “What’s next? I’ll beat the shit out of it!!!” Bokuto jumped to his feet and screamed like he was King Kong.

Daishou and Kuroo looked at each other and laughed.

“Next is a twenty-five question practice quiz for the chapter,” Daishou said, “and since you decimated that guided reading, this’ll probably be easy as shit.”

“Hell yeah! Gimme that quiz!” Bokuto commanded. Daishou held out the paper, and Bokuto snatched it from his hand, dropped back down to the floor, and completed it in fifteen minutes. When he was done he slammed his pen onto the table and promptly screeched, “Fuck school!!! What’s next on the list?!”

Kuroo and Daishou laughed again. The amount of raw confidence radiating off of Bokuto was enough to create a new energy source.

“We can either start on math or reading,” Kuroo said.

Bokuto’s face immediately dropped. “Ew. Neither.”

“Which do you hate more?” Daishou asked. Bokuto grumbled his response of reading, and Daishou said, “Okay, so let’s start on that.”

“Ughh! Why would you make me do that first?”

“To get it out of the way. If you do the stuff you don’t like first, you might end up being more productive,” Daishou replied. He pulled out the reading assignments, which there were three of. Thankfully they were shorter than the history work, so he concluded that it shouldn’t take long to do. The first one was analyzing pieces of literature, the second one was on Romeo and Juliet (since apparently it was always going to be a first year assignment for the rest of eternity, no matter if you were a first year in college, high, or junior high. Screw you, Shakespeare). Finally, the third assignment was just a fill-in-the-blank style vocab worksheet. Pretty simple.

Though Bokuto wasn’t a fan of the subject, they got through the work with relative ease. They used the same volleyball technique for the first assignment, and though Bokuto wasn’t really good at analyzing stuff, he managed to get something down for every question.

The Romeo and Juliet assignment was by far the most entertaining – the job was to “translate” the dialogue from a scene the play into more modern language. Bokuto chose the scene before the balcony scene, where Mercutio and Benvolio were talking after Romeo hopped the wall. Kuroo and Daishou helped define words and get the general meaning of the dialogue, then Bokuto created humorous new lines. Once he was done, they decided to act it out.

“Okay, I’ll read Romeo’s lines,” Bokuto said, “Kuroo will be Benvolio, and Daishou, you’ll be Mercutio.”

Kuroo and Daishou argued about their roles for a couple of minutes before Bokuto, “being the director, writer, and producer,” told them to shut up.

“Romeo, you bastard!” Kuroo yelled, reading from the script, “Of course he jumped over the goddamn wall. Mercutio, call him.”

“Well since you’re already yelling for him, I guess I will too,” Daishou shrugged, then leapt to the window, yanked it open, and started yelling out the fire escape. “Hey, asshat! Romeo! Show yourself, you coward! Are you dead? What about your ex, Rosaline? She was so hot, wasn’t she, Romeo? She–”

Kuroo pulled Daishou away from the window, “Okay, okay, that’s enough yelling,” Kuroo laughed.

“Get back on script!” Bokuto demanded.

When the two finally recovered, Kuroo cleared his throat and looked back at the script. “Dude, shut up, you’re gonna make him angry.”

“I’m not gonna make him mad. I’d make him mad if I summoned some ghost for him to have sex with, yeah, but I’m being honest. I’m just trying to lure him back out.”

“Whatever, come on, let’s just go, Mercutio. The dumbass isn’t gonna come out, he’s just blindly looking for love.”

“It’s not gonna work out, dude!” Daishou fake-called out the window again. He turned to Kuroo. “He’ll just sit under those trees with the fruits that look like vaginas all night. I bet he wants the fuck the vagina fruit. Whatever, Romeo! It’s too cold to sleep out here, so I’m out. Come on, Benvolio.”

“And scene!” Bokuto yelled. The three collapsed laughing.

“I see you’ve still got that ugly-ass hyena laugh,” Daishou said, glancing over at Kuroo, who was doubled over.

“Shut up.” He wheezed.

This just made them all laugh more. When they finally recovered, Kuroo suggested they order something for a late dinner and finish up the last reading worksheet. Kuroo called up a restaurant for delivery while Daishou started helping Bokuto with the work. By the time they finished the vocabulary, Kuroo got a call that the food arrived.

“I’ll go down to the lobby to pick it up,” Kuroo said, “You guys go ahead and start on the algebra.”

“‘Kay,” Daishou said. Bokuto chilled as Daishou went through all their papers and found the math work; just one assignment, thankfully.

Bokuto, in the short break he had as he waited, found his mind on Akaashi again. In the few hours they’d been working, his mind completely drifted from his troubles, but seemed to try to overtake his mind every time he wasn’t occupied with something. He still felt bad about earlier. Even if things got better, he’d feel bad for all of eternity. For a hot second he feared things would never get better – that Akaashi would just never talk to him ever again. As the bad thoughts came spiraling back in, Daishou must’ve noticed the change in his demeanor.

“You okay?” He asked.

Bokuto pulled himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You know,” Daishou said, putting his hand to his chin in thought, “when you’re starting to have a bad day, you should try and smile more.” Bokuto looked at him like he had turned into an awful and cliche neurotypical therapist, so Daishou said, “I know it sounds dumb, but it actually works. There’s this thing called the Facial Feedback Theory in psychology that basically says that your facial movement can influence your mood.”

“Is that why you’re making that dumb face with the tongue all the time?” Kuroo’s voice rang through the living room. They turned around and found him standing in the open doorway with a takeout bag in his hand. He kicked the door shut with his foot behind him and brought the food to the coffee table.

“Ooh, food! I’m starving!” Bokuto said. He dug through the bag contents until he found his meal and began eating right away.

Kuroo glanced at the clock and sighed. _At least it’s the weekend,_ he thought to himself. “Okay, we still have a lot to go through. Let’s get back to work.”

 

Two hours later, Bokuto finished all of his work. The only thing left was to study for Monday’s science test.

“Hhhhhh… can we do this tomorrow? I’m tired as shit,” Daishou said.

“No way, I’m on a roll!” Bokuto bellowed.

“But it’s almost midnight,” he complained.

“As long as you can stay awake to pay attention to the material, I think it’d be a good idea to get it over with now,” Kuroo said. “Going to sleep after studying will help you remember it better, and you should have a relaxed day tomorrow before the test and not cram.”

Daishou sighed and stood up. “I’m getting a soda,” he said, heading towards the kitchen.

Bokuto watched as Kuroo got prepared to help study. “Ugh, I’m the worst at this subject.”

Kuroo turned to Bokuto and grinned. “Don’t worry bud, science is my shit. I got you.”

“Uggghhhhhh…” Bokuto groaned. “I don’t wanna studyyyy…”

“Bokuto, listen. I helped Kenma study before like every test, and he passed every single one. I’m gonna help you too, and you’re gonna pass this test, alright?”

Daishou returned from the kitchen with a can of soda in his hand. “It’s like volleyball – you need to practice to win a game, right?”

Bokuto slowly nodded. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right! I got this!”

“Okay, Bokuto,” Kuroo started, “let’s work on vocabulary first…”

 

They finally finished around 2:30 in the morning.

Kuroo was right: making lists really do make you feel more productive. Bokuto looked down on the list proudly, every line crossed through. All his completed work sat in a stack next to his laptop, which he plugged in for the night to charge. A weight (probably the stacks of previously uncompleted work) was lifted from his shoulders. He was exhausted, but not in the way he’d been the past few weeks – it was the type of exhaustion that, well, you only experienced after doing homework for eight hours straight. A type of exhaustion that helped you fall asleep in peace.

“Guys, thank you so much for going through the trouble to help me,” Bokuto said. “It really, really helped. I feel a lot better now.”

Both Kuroo and Daishou grinned. They looked strikingly similar like that.

“Of course,” Daishou replied.

“No problem, Bokuto. Glad to help,” said Kuroo, “Let us know if you ever want to work together again.”

“Yeah!” Bokuto yelled. “I’m gonna ace this quiz, don’t worry!”

Bokuto felt really, really good. This was the first time that he’d ever felt confident and pumped for a test. Bokuto was never good at school, volleyball being the only thing he was successful at – and even that wasn’t the smoothest road. His parents wanted a smart kid who could go into medicine or law like they did, but all they got was a dumb, hyperactive kid who couldn’t focus for shit. They didn’t believe Bokuto could be successful with volleyball and urged him to pursue his academics as college approached, but Bokuto was going to use every ounce of his being to prove them wrong. He was going to become a famous professional volleyball player to represent Japan; he’d be successful and talented and no longer be forced to live off his parents’ wealth. However, after the help he received from his friends, Bokuto could now prove that he was smart, too. He could learn, he could work, he could do well in school – it just took eighteen years to find methods that actually worked.

“Alright, well, I’m going to go to bed,” Daishou said through a yawn. “Goodnight guys.”

“Night,” Kuroo and Bokuto replied simultaneously.

Kuroo looked back down at Bokuto’s bruised knuckles. He remembered his outburst from earlier that day; Bokuto was being loud and aggressive, but Kuroo could see in his eyes that he was begging for him not to. Begging for him not to take away the only thing that made him happy, despite his injuries. Kuroo faced a dilemma: does he ignore Bokuto for the sake of his physical health, or listen to him for the sake of his mental health?

“Hey, Bokuto,” Kuroo asked, “is it okay if I bandage your hand now?”

Bokuto brought his hand up to look at it. It was bruised, and his knuckles were scraped and beginning to scab. It still hurt a little. Bokuto took a deep breath, and told himself it was okay.

“Yeah, sure.”

 

As Kuroo bandaged his hand, Bokuto’s mind wandered again. He was thinking about Akaashi again. He couldn’t figure out if it was his own fault, or if Kuroo was right and Akaashi had his own things to deal with. He couldn’t help but think it was the former. Akaashi probably figured out that Bokuto had some sort of attachment to him and distanced himself because of it. He probably realized that Bokuto was too much to handle and left him like everyone else did. He probably got tired of Bokuto’s clingy and impulsive behavior and separated himself. He probably figured out Bokuto was broken and always would be, that he was a book with pages missing, incomplete and worthless. The only reason Akaashi hung around him in the first place was probably because he pitied him. Bokuto was an obligation, and people got tired of obligations.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, interrupting his thoughts like he could read Bokuto’s mind. “You and Akaashi will be okay.”

Kuroo finished up wrapping Bokuto’s hand and put away his bandages.

“You think so?”

“Of course,” Kuroo smirked, looking a bit pained, “even if you try, you can’t avoid someone forever.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ! looks like things are getting better? maybe? i dunno.. we'll see...
> 
> next chapter we're getting a look at akaashi's pov!
> 
> \- cameron


	15. Sorry I Didn't Respond To Your Text! I Get Overwhelmed By Simple Tasks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late updating we've been busy as shit and this was supposed to be published like a week ago djksl;s
> 
> anyways yeah i hope u enjoy this chapter its p angsty and goes into akaashi's pov. i hope u guys like it :v
> 
> -esmae

Akaashi was tired. Akaashi was so so so so tired. He was tired of school, tired of homework, tired of volleyball, tired of people, and just plain tired. He wanted to be put into a coma and forget about everything, but life wasn’t that simple. He had to get up, go to school, do his work, and put up with the same bullshit he dealt with every day. It was starting to feel a bit unfair.

At this point, Akaashi was probably a week or more behind on math, and English was too overwhelming to do at all. He put his time and effort into elective classes and ignored the rest, just scraping by enough to keep his grades up. He kept up with volleyball, but couldn’t find the motivation he used to have. 

Basically, he was really tired.

Akaashi wished things hadn’t changed from last year. He wished he was still a second year, still going to Nationals, and still on the team with Bokuto. Now Akaashi was alone, overwhelmed, and left to captain a team of crazy first years – he’d never yelled so much in his life, and felt he was starting to scare Onaga.

He knew change was inevitable, but didn’t always like it when it happened.

He didn’t like that the previous third years were gone. Now Akaashi was the third year and had a  _ lot _ more free time than he did last year – yet somehow, this was more stressful than last year.

Soon enough he’d have to be applying for universities and choosing a career path and taking life-or-death exams that determine the rest of his god-forsaken life. Akaashi was tired of high school but wasn’t really up for dealing with the future.

He wasn’t the type to want to admit it, but  _ god _ did he miss everything. He missed the rush of last year and the familiarity of it, he missed going out to eat with his team after practice, he missed the friends he had that he didn’t talk to anymore. He missed Konoha and Komi and Washio and Saruki and Bokuto. 

He still talked to them, and they each visited Fukurodani as often as they could, which unsurprisingly, wasn’t often. Bokuto was the only one of them that made consistent contact, since they were the closest. 

Honestly, it was fun hanging out with Bokuto and his roommates, even if he didn’t show it. Kuroo was a pain in the ass but usually good company, Kenma was relatable, and he didn’t know or care what he was supposed to think of Daishou. He enjoyed being out of his own company sometimes.

Now he was doing that less and less, opting to stay home alone. They were off busy with college, while Akaashi was being unproductive with high school.

Without Bokuto and Akaashi together to balance each other out, things weren’t the same anymore. Akaashi didn’t get the same rush from volleyball and found himself dissociating and napping often. Bokuto couldn’t control his emotions and his ADHD started to take its harsh grip on his life again, which only made matters worse. The first few times Bokuto had some sort of breakdown while in college it was private and minor, easily solved by talking to Akaashi for a little bit. However, these incidents became more frequent and more intense, and then things started to spiral out of control.

Making Bokuto feel good made Akaashi feel good. He couldn’t quite explain why, but it did, and now that he couldn’t do it anymore, something inside him left.

Akaashi’s mind was run strictly by logic; not often did he make decisions based on his emotions. He was practical and the most extreme opposite of impulsive as you can get. Sometimes, he felt like the was the only being on earth with rational thought.

Which he knew was a little bit shitty of a thing to think, but couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help that Bokuto’s extreme emotions annoyed him sometimes. He didn’t want that to be the case. He really didn’t.

He cursed his low empathy. He cursed the distance between them.

Akaashi couldn’t help Bokuto because he didn’t know how to, which was a strange thing to him, since he always knew how to help. He knew everything that threatened Bokuto and how to fix it, everything that made him sad and how to make him happy again. 

Though Bokuto seemed like a simple man, he wasn’t. There was so much to Bokuto and Akaashi didn’t know what to do with the sides he’d never seen before.

When he realized that Bokuto was forgetting things again, it was usually because he forgot to take his medicine. When Bokuto started doing impulsive things Akaashi could usually talk some sense into him. When Kuroo had to start calling, he was getting a bit worried. The first time Bokuto called shaking and crying, Akaashi managed to call him down, however, the more it happened the less patience Akaashi had. Bokuto wouldn’t listen to him. He couldn’t persuade Bokuto of anything, and that was the most frustrating thing in the world. He was getting tired of trying when nothing ever worked. Akaashi couldn’t understand Bokuto’s emotions because he felt in a different way than he did.

Akaashi’s emotions were infrequent and dull. Most of the time he was indifferent and tired, with passing emotions of happiness, sadness, stress, and anxiety. He didn’t know what to do when he felt something different than that.

Which was another thing that bothered him about Bokuto. He made him feel different. He couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad feeling – just different. It was something he’d never felt, and if he had, it’d been years since then. It confused him and consumed his mind at times. What was he supposed to do with this unfamiliar emotion?

The worse thing about the emotion was that it hurt. When Bokuto was upset, suffering, crying, or screaming, the emotion coiled up and squeezed his chest like a snake until he couldn’t breathe or think or feel anything but the pain. It made it hard to help Bokuto because he didn’t want to hurt.

He had to stop helping completely because it just hurt too much.

And now whenever Bokuto tried to reach for him, Akaashi couldn’t take his hand. He couldn’t take the hand of someone who refused his help after asking for it. Akaashi hated that he felt that way, but couldn’t do anything about it.

He knew he shouldn’t be avoiding Bokuto. He knew it was probably hurting him. But he couldn’t do anything about it.

Akaashi was tired.

Everything got worse when Kuroo called.

“Akaashi, can you come over?” Kuroo asked, his voice shaking. Akaashi knew Kuroo well enough to know that he wasn’t the type of guy to want to expose his emotions, and this was the first time Kuroo ever called him like that. 

“What’s wrong?” He replied, worry evident in his voice.

“Bokuto put a hole in the wall… he’s been screaming for so long… I’ve never seen him like this before, I don’t know what to do…”

“I’ll be right over.”

Akaashi didn’t really want to think about what happened after that.

He saw Bokuto and something inside him broke. His body shattered into a million pieces, and in the moment when he tried to put himself back together, it created something harsh and jagged. He couldn’t express the concern he felt deep down, only the frustration he’d been holding back for weeks. He didn’t want to be hostile, but at that point, it was the only thing left. Bokuto didn’t listen to any other treatment Akaashi gave him, so if he had to be angry to get everyone else to listen, that’s what he reluctantly had to do.

It was somewhere in that moment when Akaashi realized he loved him.

God, why would he ever treat someone he loved like that?

His defense mechanism was to repress and mask his emotions. He didn’t want them to see that the pain was too much to bear. A hurricane swept through his mind and left nothing but ruin and emptiness. In the moment of calm, Akaashi spoke his harsh truth. He was tired. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t be the suicide hotline. He couldn’t be the one to solve the problems of legal adults.

He didn’t want to face the real world yet and wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to.

He wanted to help, but couldn’t stand it for a second longer. He felt the anger behind Daishou’s words, he felt the sadness from Kuroo’s eyes, and worst of all, he felt the overwhelming despair coming from Bokuto. 

All sorts of horribly selfish things were going through his mind. Akaashi hated himself for it.

The storm continued.

Akaashi got home and wanted to break something. He cursed his impulse control. He wanted to throw shit and break vases and punch the wall until blood dripped from his knuckles, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept the emotions contained. They rumbled inside him like thunder, waiting for lightning to strike. 

Eventually, he was able to quell the storm inside him and fall asleep.

He’d been sleeping a lot lately.

He lived the next couple of weeks feeling empty. He was worried; worried that the storm would return in either of them.

It seemed to bring out the worst in them, and they weren’t compatible when they were both consumed by their minds.

It was a Friday when Akaashi skipped volleyball practice for the first time. He told Onaga he wasn’t feeling well, then went home and immediately fell asleep. Being alive was just too tiring these days.

Three hours later he woke up to his ringing phone. It was Bokuto.

He hadn’t talked to him since he left him crying and screaming in his own apartment. Akaashi didn’t want to think about that.

However, he answered the call anyways.

God, was he tired.

Bokuto started crying seconds into the call. It hurt, but Akaashi couldn’t find the energy within himself to help. He was tired.

He told Bokuto to stop. He hung up. He was tired.

It hurt.

It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt.

Yet he felt empty.

Eventually, somewhere amongst the wrecked ghost town that was his mind, anger surfaced. 

Anger wasn’t something he experienced often, but when he did, it was raw and unyielding. He urged his impulse control to release its iron grip. He wanted to wreak havoc on himself and everyone around him. He wanted to be the last human standing on earth. In that moment he didn't fucking care. He didn't care about other people or what they felt or what happened to them. All he wanted to do was tear the world to pieces for being so fucking unfair. He was shaking with rage and frustration.  _ God, _ he was so frustrated. He was frustrated with the people around him, with school, with Bokuto; but he was mostly frustrated with himself. He was tired of being apathetic. He was tired of his lack of empathy. He was tired of being tired. He lacked the energy that seemed to make others human. Maybe he wasn't human. Maybe he was just a robot and all his half-assed emotions were malfunctions. 

Akaashi wanted to break something. Wanted to rip something apart the way he was being ripped apart from the inside, slowly and painfully. 

He had a solitary plant in his room, sitting next to his computer in a large mug. It was dying from the lack of attention he gave it – after all, if Akaashi could barely be bothered to do most of his homework, where would he find time for a plant?

Finally, finally, his rock solid impulse control took a leave of absence, and without a second thought, Akaashi picked up the container and smashed it against the wall. His hand stung from the force of it, but he barely felt it. 

Akaashi wanted to continue shredding the rest of his room, but his impulse control had returned as quickly as it left, so all he could do was sit down on his bed and cry. 

He didn't sob or shake, all he did was stare at the wall with tears streaming down his face.

Once Akaashi forced himself to stop crying, he took out his notebook and tore the paper into slow methodical strips until the feeling of emptiness returned to him. 

He stared at the remnants from the potted plant he had shattered. He couldn't be bothered to clean it up. There were flecks of broken glass and bits of soil everywhere. He found himself lost in thought as he stared at it, yet didn't know what he was thinking. 

 

Akaashi was slipping. Everything was starting to fall apart: his grades, volleyball, his fragile hold on reality. Akaashi was falling apart, but no one would ever be able to tell. Akaashi didn't have big breakdowns, he had series of consecutive small ones, piecing himself together  _ just enough _ to keep going. But he was tired of the constant cycle, of fixing himself only to fall apart. He didn't want to keep putting the pieces together only to have them break again. He was tired, tired of everything, and didn't see the point of continuing this vicious cycle. So he let himself break, just a little. 

He skipped volleyball practice more often, he stopped doing his homework and started failing, he stopped talking to people and spoke only when necessary, not even bothering to yell at the first years when they were fucking around. 

Akaashi let himself break, and people barely even noticed. 

He didn't  _ want _ them to notice, he didn't want their pity, he didn't want their concern. He didn't want the false attempts at comfort, only attempting to help because it made them uncomfortable and not because they cared. Normally Akaashi was on the other side of this. Akaashi was the one fixing. Yet, lately he couldn't even be bothered to fix himself. 

But when Akaashi started falling apart, no one tried to fix him. 

Which was fine by him because he just wanted to be left the fuck alone. Still, he was bitter about the fact that despite him helping the people around him for so many years, they didn't even notice or care when he was the one who needed help. 

Bokuto probably would've noticed. 

But Bokuto wasn't here. 

Akaashi had cut himself off from the one person who would've noticed he was in pain, so why not cut himself off from everyone else?

He didn't answer texts, he didn't answer calls, he kept his head down in the halls, and he barely went to volleyball practice.

He started skipping school. 

Of course the school called his parents, and they attempted to have a long discussion with him, but he was dissociated the entire time. He agreed he'd stop skipping, but really just got more clever about it. Fukurodani was a large school and the teachers could barely keep track of the students, so he just merely went to the first ten minutes of each class, then slipped out to walk around. He liked walking, it took his mind off everything. It removed him as an individual and made him a part of one big, bustling crowd. 

Akaashi often let himself believe he didn't exist, all he felt was the movement of the crowd and the sound of the city. With all the noise and all the sights, it was easy to be erased. 

Akaashi didn't  _ feel _ like a person. He didn't feel like anything. He was on autopilot, living life to only be alive.

Sometimes he got sad about that fact, the fact that he didn't really have a point to being alive. But his sadness was quickly over, and he normally just went to sleep.

Sometimes he was forced to think about it. Forced to think about how he was failing the majority of his classes, or how he barely went to volleyball anymore, or how all this isolation was making him ruin his whole life. Forced to think about Bokuto. Sometimes, his brain just wouldn't leave him alone. 

Despite his efforts, he could not rid himself of a brain. He tried to disconnect himself from his brain completely, but it always came back with feelings he did not want. Most of the time, Akaashi wished he was just a body, a body that executed everything perfectly, but had no feelings, no thoughts, no nothing. That way he could be dead without making anyone sad. 

But unfortunately, he had a brain and it often forced him to think about things.  

It was like Akaashi had split into two selves: his emotional self and his logical self. Currently, his logical self was beating the holy living shit out of his emotional self. 

He was tired of fighting his emotions. Tired of dragging on through life as though nothing was wrong, tired of pretending that if he ignored his emotions they would go away. He wanted to stop, but he didn't know how. 

Akaashi thought about the pot he had shattered, and thought about his destructive anger. Akaashi hated feeling out of control, but he hated having weak, watered-down emotions more. 

Suddenly, he was thinking about Bokuto. 

Everyone viewed Bokuto as a child: foolish and weak. But Akaashi saw Bokuto as someone like him. Honestly, you couldn't get two people more opposite each other, but they were similar in a way. Both Akaashi and Bokuto were people who didn't know what to do with their emotions, and dealt with it poorly. 

In Bokuto's case, he voiced them. He repressed them, too, but his emotions were too loud to crush – they always came flooding to the surface eventually.

Akaashi however, kicked his emotions away. He ignored them, convincing himself he was fine. Eventually his emotions had complied, and became weaker and easier to pack away. 

Bokuto fought head on with a force he couldn't beat. Akaashi hid from something that couldn't be avoided. 

Akaashi sighed. Bokuto had always brought something out him in he couldn't push away. 

Now he was gone and Akaashi was back at the start. It was like Akaashi was in a really hard video game: every time he made an ounce of progress, the game over screen would flash. Akaashi kept dying, and he was running out of lives. 

Akaashi found himself remembering when he and Bokuto had first met. He didn't want to remember, but he couldn't forget.

There was Bokuto, loud, obnoxious, and about as determined as you can get; and Akaashi, quiet, unassuming, and apathetic towards most everything. Yet for some reason Bokuto  _ insisted _ on being around Akaashi, and for some reason Akaashi didn't mind it. 

_ "Hey hey Akaashi you should toss for me!" _

Bokuto had the most golden eyes – they shone with raw energy and emotion. You could tell just by looking at them that everything Bokuto felt was genuine. Akaashi could still remember the feeling he had when he first looked into those gleaming eyes. He’d never seen someone so full of life before.

All the memories came flooding back at once. It was too much for Akaashi. Too much happiness now tarnished by pain. Too many bittersweet memories. Akaashi was overwhelmed by it all, and before he could even process it he was crying. He missed Bokuto. But he had gone and fucked it all up, and there was a chance he and Bokuto would never talk again. 

Akaashi rested his elbows on his knees and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, threatening to crush his skull between his arms. He screwed his eyes shut and wordlessly screamed for his mind to be quiet, but the harder he tried the more he failed. 

Akaashi had a brick wall surrounding his emotions, and Bokuto kicked a hole right through it. 

Suddenly, as if his mind finally deemed it useless, Akaashi’s pent up frustration crumbled and he began to cry.

One shaky breath after another, tears fell from his eyes and dripped onto the floor. He curled up on his bed and cried, and cried, and cried, and cried... until there were no more emotions left to be let out. Until he was back to feeling tired and empty.

Akaashi missed Bokuto. He missed talking to him. He missed playing volleyball with him. He missed being around him. He missed the closeness they had. 

They were drifting apart, and Akaashi hated it. Hated hated hated it. Yet had done nothing to stop it. 

Akaashi missed it all so much, but he could never go back. Ever. If he could he would do it in a heartbeat. But he couldn't, and all that was left for him to do was move forward and survive another day.

Akaashi was tired without Bokuto's constant energy. 

Tired tired tired. 

Akaashi was tired. 

So he went to sleep.


	16. The Naruto Party Starts Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THIS [AMAZING ART](http://aro-alien.tumblr.com/post/161179348990/galaxy1358-daishou-and-his-snake-from) WE GOT!!!!!! thank you so much [tikka-tikka](https://tikka-tikka.tumblr.com/) for drawing this for us!! everyone be sure to check them out :0
> 
> so this chapter references some anime, specifically osomatsu-san. if you haven't seen it or didn't know, kuroo has the same voice actor as karamatsu, which i happen to find _hilarious._ ANYWAYS if you aren't familiar with that show or character please [watch](https://www.dropbox.com/s/teek2vxv38yz4yk/NO%20PLAN.mp4?dl=0) [these](https://www.dropbox.com/s/topb2uu0btqvilk/the%20One.mp4?dl=0) [hilarious](http://matsunogirl.tumblr.com/post/134812906363/why-why-is-it-that-i-love-everyone-so-much-yet) [clips](http://yurionice.tumblr.com/post/138494865680).
> 
> \- cameron
> 
>  
> 
> holy shit this is late dfjhgjkf 
> 
> hopefully we'll be able to update sooner bc a chapter im really looking forward to writing is coming up so /maybe/ that will help lmfao,,,,,,,
> 
> anyways check out that awesome fanart we got!!!!! holy shit!!!! it's so sick!!!
> 
> -esmae

"What are you watching?" Daishou asked Kuroo from the kitchen. He took the milk out of the fridge and started drinking directly from the carton.

Normally he wouldn't have cared but he actually understood the words coming from the crumb-clogged speakers on Kuroo's laptop. Meaning he wasn't watching one of the High School Musical movies, as he usually was. He insisted on watching at least one of the movies once a week. He had a weird obsession with Western pop culture and it was starting to get kind of out of hand.

"Osomatsu-san," Kuroo answered, glancing back at Daishou. "Euh, don't do that, that's fucking disgusting." 

“You fucking hypocrite, you do this with literally any drink that’s not milk. It's not like you even drink the milk anyways," Daishou retorted. 

"That doesn't make it any less disgusting."

Daishou ignored him and sat down on the couch next to him, still chugging from the milk carton. Kuroo made the expression usually reserved for when you're swimming in the ocean and your foot touches something Foreign. 

"I think I've heard of this," Daishou said, setting the milk on the coffee table where it would probably sit for eight hours and then be mistakenly drank by Bokuto. "It's the one with the sextuplets right?"

"Yeah. It's so fucking funny, I love it," Kuroo replied, fixing his eyes back on the screen.

The sextuplets were fleetingly looking for jobs when Ichimatsu said, “Yeah, I’m trash, garbage, unburnable trash with no will to live.”

Daishou snorted. 

Soon enough they finished the episode. Kuroo wordlessly played the next one. And the next one. And the one after that. 

"Hey guys, what are you watching?" Bokuto said, entering in the apartment, grocery bags covering his arms. He kicked the door shut behind him. 

"Osomatsu-san," Kuroo and Daishou said in sync. 

"God damn it, Bokuto, stop buying baguettes!" Daishou added, noticing the bread peaking out of one of the bags on Bokuto’s arms. Bokuto yelled some sort of defensive response that Daishou couldn’t even process as he dumped all the bags on the counter (probably to be forgotten for a couple hours) and ran back to the living room.

“Quit buying weird things from thrift stores too. That awful doll thing in the corner is starting to creep me out.” Kuroo said, eyeing the cursed object.

“Why would you even buy that?” Daishou asked.

“It was on sale,” Bokuto said, squeezing in on the couch next to them. Kuroo and Daishou shared a synchronized glare for being closer than 3 feet to each other, but went back to watching the anime. 

"OH THIS SHOW," Bokuto yelled, drowning out the noise of Kuroo's quiet laptop. "Yeah, I love this show!"

The three of them continued watching in relative silence, Bokuto craning his neck to see the screen. Occasionally they would laugh or crack jokes, but other than that it was a rather peaceful viewing. 

Until Kuroo started fucking with them.

"So you're finally here, Karamatsu girls," Kuroo said in the most dead-on Karamatsu impression the universe has ever heard.

Bokuto did a double take. “Wait, was that you?”

Kuroo grinned like some sort of idiot and nodded.

“Oh my god, I thought that was from the computer!”

“[Heh](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ylXbCh56oU)… or… was it?” Kuroo dramatically said in Karamatsu’s voice.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” Daishou reached over and paused the episode. “I really want to be pissed off right now but that impression is spot-on.”

“What else about me do you try to hide with your anger, my dear Daishou?” Kuroo continued, “My stunning good looks? My excellent fashion sense? My generous and altruistic personality?”

“Nevermind, I’m actually pissed now. Shut the fuck up.”

As they continued to watch the show Kuroo said a few more things in his impression, but Bokuto and Daishou merely brushed it off.

"Okay, it’s time to stop," Daishou said when Kuroo did a  _ ‘heh’ _ for the sixth time. 

Kuroo laughed his ugly ass hyena cackle and replied, "So you're finally here, Tetsurou girls."

"Um what the fuck," Daishou looked mildly horrified while Bokuto just looked dumbfounded. 

Kuroo repeated himself and laughed some more. 

"Please don't say that again it's making me uncomfortable."

"Daishou's a plantfucker," he replied in Karamatsu's voice. 

"Oh my god. Stop." 

Bokuto began laughing his ass off. “Oh my god! Say something else.”

“No wonder Daishou can’t get a girlfriend,” Kuroo started in his impression. He pointed dramatically at Daishou. “Nobody can get laid when they’re a plantfucker!”

Kuroo held this pose with a weird ass smirk on his face as Bokuto fell off the couch laughing in the background. 

Daishou slapped Kuroo’s finger away from his face. “Shut the hell off.”

Kuroo did not shut the hell off and continued to mock Daishou in Karamatsu's voice until Daishou disappeared into his room, came back out, and dropped his snake directly onto Kuroo's laptop. Forcing Kuroo into contact with  _ Snake _ seemed to be his go-to problem solving technique these days; it was way more effective than arguing with Kuroo for 5 hours straight. 

At the sudden appearance of  _ Snake _ Kuroo screamed, threw his computer at Bokuto and ran into the kitchen. 

"Put that thing back where it came from or so help me," Kuroo said, back pressed as close to the refrigerator as possible. 

"Dude did you literally just quote Mike Wazowski?" Bokuto said. 

"I'll put  _ Snake _ back in her tank if you stop with the creepy, spot-on, Karamatsu voice," Daishou replied, picking snake up off the couch and draping her over his shoulders. Kuroo wore a look of mild disgust and terror on his face. 

Kuroo eyed the snake warily, "Fine, but I reserve the right to make fun of you you in that voice later."

"Then you have to be prepared to have a snake dropped on your head again."

Kuroo scowled. Daishou grinned and went to put  _ Snake _ back in her tank.

Kuroo was still hiding in the kitchen when Daishou got back, "Oi, asshole. Are you gonna play the next episode or not?" Daishou asked. 

Kuroo considered this carefully for a moment, then went over to the couch and played the next episode. 

 

Kuroo was half asleep with his face in a textbook when he heard screaming. He could tell it wasn’t real screaming because it had that indescribable movie-like quality where you could just tell it was different. He wearily unstuck his face from page 396 and walked out into the living room to see what was going on. He rubbed his eyes and saw the blue glow of someone's laptop. He heard more screaming and squinted to see the screen from the hallway. 

It looked incredibly familiar but he was so tired he had reached a different plane of existence all together. He checked the clock, and it was four in the morning. 

"God, Eren and Mikasa are such a power couple."

Well that sure woke him up.

Kuroo blinked; he was Disgusted and Confused.  

"Um. What."

Bokuto and Daishou turned around and saw him. Kuroo forced down the saltiness that came with the fact they had been watching Attack on Titan without him. 

"I said Eren and Mikasa are such a pow–"

"Get out of my house," he replied, cutting Daishou off. 

"Well technically it's our house so you can't force me to leave."

"I sure fucking can. Get out and come back when you have some common sense."

"Okay, what are you on about?" Daishou asked. By now, Bokuto had turned back to the screen, but Kuroo and Daishou were having an intense glaring contest though it was evident Daishou didn't know why. 

Kuroo narrowed his eyes, "You know why."

Realization dawned on Daishou, "Ohhh. You don't like Mikasa do you?"

"I like Mikasa just fine. She's fucking badass. The concept of Eren and Mikasa  _ together _ is what I specifically Do Not Like."

"Can you guys shut up, someone's getting eaten," Bokuto called over his shoulder.

Daishou narrowed his eyes.  _ He looks like a bitchass snake when he does that, _ Kuroo thought to himself. 

"Let me guess. You prefer  _ Armin _ and Eren," Daishou said, saltiness evident in his voice. 

"You bet your ass I do."

Daishou scoffed, "It's never gonna happen."

"I have faith," Kuroo replied, glare intensifying. "Besides you're just falling for who the show  _ wants _ you to ship." 

"Well shut the fuck off it's working."

"Can both of you shut up and watch the goddamn titans eat these bitches," Bokuto yelled. 

Kuroo and Daishou exchanged one last glare before Daishou turned back to the screen and Kuroo walked over and sat down on the couch. 

They watched Attack on Titan until about five in the morning. Everyone was exhausted and Kuroo was starting to feel a bit nauseous, both from the lack of sleep and abundance of blood. Bokuto got tired of hearing Daishou and Kuroo bickering incessantly over which ship was better, and retreated to his room to get some sleep.

However, this would not be the end. 

They quickly finished all of the first season, Bokuto barely surviving throughout Daishou and Kuroo's incessant bickering. ("You guys,  _ please _ be quiet Levi's about to fucking slaughter these hoes.")

They would be quiet for about an episode and then go back to arguing. 

"Why do you guys care who Eren gets with; they're all gonna die anyways," Bokuto said exasperated. 

"NO. Eren's gonna survive to see the ocean with Armin it was heavily implied," Kuroo replied. 

"Or Mikasa."

"Listen bih, he knew Mikasa for like a year before the Titans attacked. He's known Armin for his entire gotdam life. You can't fucking resist the childhood friends trope man."

Daishou scoffed, "I sure can."

"Besides, Armin is such an underappreciated character, you just can't see him and Eren together because you're too focused on the characters who actually get screentime," Kuroo continued on, undeterred. 

"Shut up. You just relate to Armin and have a big gay crush on Eren," Daishou snapped. 

"Actually, I have a big gay crush on Mikasa, so get your facts straight."

“Oh, so I see your intentions now: you just want Mikasa to yourself, isn’t that right?”

_ “What? _ No! She’s a fictional character, it’s not gonna  _ bother _ me if she were in a relationship!”

“Yeah,  _ sure.” _

Daishou smirked and Kuroo glared. 

They managed to keep a fragile hold on peace. 

Until they started season two. 

Some new Eren and Mikasa Moment™ had just transpired and Daishou was staring at Kuroo with the smuggest fucking grin the world had ever seen. 

“That wasn’t even  _ in _ the manga!” Kuroo yelled, gesturing at the screen in disbelief.

“You know it’s coming, Kuroo,” Daishou taunted him, “You know they wouldn’t put that there if it weren’t leading to something bigger.”

Kuroo was struggling (and failing) to contain his rage. 

_ I've had enough of this, _ he thought to himself, then promptly decked Daishou in the face. 

“OW!” Daishou cried, clutching his jaw, "Dude, what the fuck!?"

Kuroo sprang up from the couch. "That's what you get for bein a lil bitch!" 

"I'm gonna beat the shit outta you," Daishou half yelled, still somewhat in shock from being punched in the face. He stood up and began chasing Kuroo around the living room, throwing punches at any solid part of Kuroo he could reach. The room wasn’t that big, so Daishou quickly caught up with Kuroo and half-heartedly shoved him to the floor. Both of them were obviously pissed, yet they found themselves looking at each other and laughing. 

"If you guys keep this up, I'm going to ban Attack on Titan," Bokuto said, eyeing them cautiously, as if they we're going to start brawling any minute. 

"Aw, what?" Kuroo protested. 

Daishou frowned, "You can't do that."

"Then stop bickering while I'm trying to watch people get eaten and kill stuff!"

They shut up relatively more after that. 

 

Once they had caught up with all of season two of Attack on Titan that was out. They started watching other animes while waiting between episodes. 

Somehow one day they landed on Tokyo Ghoul. 

None of them really kept up with it so they dicked around watching their favorite episodes and cracking jokes. 

Mostly they laughed at Kuroo's very low tolerance to gore. 

"YEAAHH LOOK AT ALL THAT BLOOD!" Bokuto hollered, shattering everyone's eardrums within a mile radius. 

"Haha sick," Daishou laughed. 

Meanwhile Kuroo looked like he was actually going to be sick. 

"I don't get why you guys like animes about crazy people eating other people," Kuroo said, retrieving a water from the fridge, then walking over to the couch to watch one of said animes.

"Because it's awesome that's why," Bokuto said in defense. 

"I'll admit the plot is pretty cool but do they really need that much carnage?"

"Nah man that's what makes it awesome," Daishou replied. "Besides you love Attack on Titan and that's pretty violent. And overrated if you ask me."

Bokuto frowned, "And yet you're the one who’s the furthest in the manga."

"I'm only in it for the eremin endgame dude." Kuroo said

"Mention ‘eremin endgame' one more time and I swear to god I'll spoil the latest chapter for you." Daishou said.

A horrified expression passed over Kuroo's face and he promptly shut up. 

"Anyways, let's watch people eat their friends!" Bokuto said, pressing play. 

They got sick of Tokyo Ghoul eventually; Kuroo both metaphorically and literally. 

They were flicking through the anime section on Netflix while Bokuto adamantly insisted they watch One Punch Man, because it was one of his favorites, but they had all already seen it recently. When Daishou saw something. 

"Holy shit." 

"What is it?" Kuroo asked, boredly attempting to do homework while they looked for something to watch. 

"We're going to watch Puella Magi Madoka Magica and neither of you can back out."

"Isn't that a magical girl anime?" Bokuto seemed confused.

Daishou hesitated, "Yeah."

He clicked play and they watched the first episode. 

Bokuto seemed bored at the lack of blood and violence, but Kuroo however seemed to be grateful for the break. 

And then It™ happened. 

"What the fuck?" Kuroo said, too shocked to yell, though he looked about inches away from flipping a table. 

Bokuto didn't even look excited, he just seemed horrified. 

"Um. What just happened?" Kuroo asked, traumatized. He was staring at the screen as the next episode loaded. 

"Yeah, seriously what the fuck, Daishou?" Bokuto added. 

Daishou grinned like the smug asshole he was. 

"You motherfucker," Kuroo muttered. 

The next episode played. 

By the time they were halfway through the series, Bokuto and Kuroo were Fully Invested, and of course, outraged and horrified. 

They soon finished all twelve episodes, had gone through all nine of their "emergency" boxes of popcorn (which Kuroo had been stress eating), and the emotional states of Bokuto and Kuroo were in ruin. 

"What the fuck did I just watch," Kuroo whispered, staring at the black television screen. 

"The biggest fucking plot twist in all of history. Iconic honestly," Daishou replied. 

Bokuto was eating the kernels of popcorn out of the bags when he spoke up, "I don't know what just happened, but... nah that's it I don't know what happened."

"I can't believe you forced us to watch that without any warning."

"I didn't force you to watch anything," Daishou defended. 

"I didn't know it was going to be like that!" Kuroo yelled. "Man that anime fucked me up."

"It's because the first two episodes lull you into a false sense of comfort. Jokes on them, I'm paranoid as fuck," Daishou replied.

They spent the following half hour talking in the living room, the glow of the Netflix home-screen the only source of light. 

Once it hit two in the morning Daishou and Kuroo elected to go to sleep. 

"I'm gonna stay up a little longer," Bokuto said, something in his voice seemed a bit sad. 

"Okay. Night."

"Goodnight."

"Night," Bokuto called out as the two of them retreated to their rooms. 

He retrieved his laptop and pulled up an episode of Sailor Moon. 

Honestly it wasn't the type of anime he enjoyed now, but it was a show he grew up with. It made him nostalgic. 

Nostalgic for his childhood. Nostalgic for Akaashi. 

It was a few months after they had become friends. Akaashi was staying over at his house along with the rest of the team for some type of celebratory sleep over. He and Akaashi were the last ones awake. 

They were flicking through various animes when Akaashi spoke up. 

"Hey," he said, his naturally quiet voice even quieter. "Let's watch Sailor Moon."

"I LOVE Sailor Moon!" Bokuto said, attempting a whisper.

Akaashi shushed him for fear that the rest of the volleyball team downstairs would hear. He played the first episode. 

They played their favorite episodes and talked about things that you can only talk about during a sleepover at three in the morning. They watched it well into the night. They watched it until everyone woke up in the morning. They laughed and laughed. They talked and laughed some more. 

When morning rolled around, they were tired, but they were happy. God they were happy. All Bokuto wanted to do was go back to being that happy. Go back to being with Akaashi. 

But he couldn't go back. All that was left was to move forward. 

He was scared of the future and nostalgic for the past. He was afraid that he moved on, it would be without Akaashi. 

Bokuto wanted to move on, but he didn't want to lose Akaashi. He wanted a future with Akaashi in it. He wanted a future filled with as many happy memories as the past. 

He wanted to text Akaashi, he really did, but he was afraid. Afraid that if he did Akaashi wouldn't respond. Afraid if he did he would be forced to let go of the past he clung to. Afraid he would have to deal with a future without Akaashi. Afraid to be living in the past for the rest of his life. 

He was nostalgic, but he realized something in that moment. Nostalgia was a liar. It tricked you into thinking the past was better and the future was hopeless. But that wasn't the case. The past was as fucked as the present. Bokuto still had ADHD back then. Akaashi had still been depressed. Everything had still been broken. 

But pain makes you long for something different. Bokuto was scared of the future so he longed for the past. 

_ Fuck that, _ he thought. It was better to be hopeful than to be nostalgic. He couldn't let fear rule his life. If he did, every step would be his last, because he was living in the past.

It was time to start hoping for the future.  

He texted Akaashi. 

**> >the amazing ace:** ehy wanna watch sailor moon?

Bokuto set his phone down and waited for a response. He took a deep breath. Everything was okay. 

He didn't wait long. 

**> AKAASHI:** sure

**> AKAASHI: ** want me to come over?

Bokuto grinned. Finally, everything that had been weighing down on him for the past few weeks was gone. Finally, he felt like he would be okay. It didn’t feel how he thought it would feel, it didn’t feel like something magically clicked, like all his problems and ADHD had just disappeared. He knew he would still struggle, still get upset; but he now knew he would be able to get out of it. It wasn’t a sudden, miraculous change. It was just the knowledge that he would be okay. 

The sad weight of reality soon hit him when he realized that this probably wouldn’t last. He’d gone through this many times, the fleeting feeling of happiness, of everything being  _ right  _ never lasted. It was always soon swallowed by the overwhelming pain and problems that haunted him. 

He had the sad thought that he was just too fucked up to be happy. 

But as he stared at the text from Akaashi he couldn’t help but be hopeful. 

Bokuto took a deep breath and reminded himself that no matter what life thew at him he had people to help him get through it. 

Maybe he wouldn’t be okay all the time, but he would enjoy the times that he would, and work to get past the times he wasn’t. 

Bokuto couldn’t go back to the past, but he could look forward to the future. 

A future with happy times, with laughter, with friends. A future filled with possibilities. 

A future with Akaashi.

Bokuto couldn’t stop smiling. Everything finally felt a bit better.

**> >the amazing ace: ** yeah!! that’d be great!!


	17. Are You Ready For A Romantic Adventure?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck
> 
> -cameron
> 
>  
> 
> (wheeze) 
> 
> we're having some Difficulties and we can't do shit so sorry for the late update(s) 
> 
> also this isn't technically fanart but cameron won part of an art giveaway and had [@suguru](http://suguru.tumblr.com/) draw [the bois™](http://suguru.tumblr.com/post/162294790122/giveaway-prize-for-aro-alien)
> 
> -esmae

Akaashi gazed out the window and watched as a group of crows hopped around the courtyard, pecking for crumbs amongst the grass and sidewalks. The workload at school had lightened up a bit, so for the time being Akaashi was once again attending class and turning stuff in. He knew he should probably do something about all the missing assignments he’d given up on the past couple weeks, but that was over with and he had other pressing matters to attend to, such as the “very important volleyball meeting” his teammates had insisted on doing during lunch. Really, it was just an excuse to get on their captain’s ass about things and then spend the rest of the time shitting around.

“So, Akaashi-senpai, who’s the lucky lady?” A first year asked.

At this point Akaashi couldn’t be surprised by anything life threw at him, but you could say he was definitely caught off guard. “Pardon?”

“Only a girl could be important enough to skip volleyball practice for!”

“Ooh, who d’you think it is?” Another first year chimed, “Do you think it’s Suzumeda-san?”

“No, you idiot, she’s been coming to practice! Plus, she has a boyfriend, it can’t be her.”

Akaashi sighed. “I told you, I wasn’t feeling well. There’s no girl.”

The other first year didn’t seem satisfied with this response. “Akaashi’s really attractive though, I bet he’s got a million girls just lining up to get his number.” He sighed dreamily. “God, I wish that were me.”

“Last year Akaashi’s locker was filled with notes on Valentine’s day,” Onaga added, “but he didn’t accept a single one.”

“Why must you encourage them?” Akaashi groaned as the first years gasped.

“Not a single one?!” They cried.

Akaashi shovelled another clump of rice into his mouth. “I wasn’t interested in dating,” he said.

They ignored him. “Imagine all those broken hearts! Gaaaaah! Where are they?! I will surely mend their shattered spirits!”

The first years continued to yell until one of the second years punched them in the gut and made them sit down.

They finally changed the conversation topic, much to Akaashi’s relief. He went back to staring out the window for a bit, until his phone started vibrating in his lap.

 

 _Incoming call from:_ **_asshole_ **

 

Akaashi made a Face and declined the call. Not thirty seconds later he got a text from Kuroo.

 **> asshole: **oi i know you saw that

Great. He should’ve known Kuroo wouldn’t leave him alone.

 **> >keiji: **what do you want

 **> asshole: **i need to talk to you

 **> >keiji: **no

 **> asshole: **why not?

 **> >keiji: **i’m busy

 **> asshole: **no you’re not, it’s lunchtime at school

 **> >keiji: **can’t you just tell me over text?

 **> asshole:** no

 **> >keiji:** why not?

 **> asshole: **i’m busy

 **> >keiji: **fuck you

 **> >keiji: **no you’re not

 **> asshole: **just call me back

 **> asshole: **i promise it won’t take long

 **> >keiji: **fine

Akaashi stood up from his desk and excused himself to make a phone call.

“Ooh, are you gonna call your girl?”

Akaashi couldn’t help but laugh at the mere thought. “Definitely not.”

He ignored the rest of his team’s jides as he left the room and made his way down to the courtyard. He dialed Kuroo and he picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, Akaashi.”

“What is it?”

“I need to ask you something,” Kuroo audibly hesitated, “Remember that one time we went to Burger King and gossipped?”

Akaashi thought back to that night – they were at least 37% drunk and it must’ve been ass-o'clock in the morning when it happened, but he could remember it well enough to know that it was more of a liminal moment of emotional vulnerability than it was gossipping.

“What about it?”

“I think we should do that again. I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, no thanks. I would prefer not to”

“I’m not asking you out, if that’s what you think!” Kuroo said, mildly panicked, “We just need to talk about things, and I’d rather do that in person than over the phone.”

“Why?” Akaashi said, putting an entire week's worth of exhaustion into the one simple word.

“Because it’s important.”

Akaashi paused. He could tell Kuroo was being serious.

“Even if it is, I don’t have the energy for it.”

Which was exactly what he didn’t want.

“Listen you can meet up with me or you can not, but let me tell you this: you’ll regret if you leave him now. You’ll still be thinking about it four years down the road. So please, come and talk to me because I know what happens afterwards. And trust me, you don’t want to live a life of regret.”

Akaashi felt the emotional equivalent of an eyebrow raise pass over him, then the weight of Kuroo’s words hit him. That was someone speaking from experience.

“...Fine. Where do you want to meet?” he said, voice dripping with emotional exhaust.

“The restaurant across the street from our apartment,” Kuroo replied.

“Okay. See you there.” Akaashi’s voice held no hint of politeness. He was very apparently salty.

He could practically hear Kuroo scowl from over the phone and grumble out a response.

Akaashi ended the call before Kuroo got the chance and walked back inside to inform his teammates that he had to go.

They laughed and told him that he wasn’t being very discreet about his secret girlfriend, but the only thing he was being discreet about was his bullshit meeting with Kuroo. He made a Face at the thought of him dating Kuroo, then laughed to himself because the idea was so absurd.

He was walking towards the train station when he started thinking about what Kuroo had said.

_‘You’ll regret it if you leave him now.’_

Akaashi shook the thought out of his head. He didn’t want Kuroo to be able to get to him. Besides, he had no intention of leaving Bokuto.

Yet he had been so intent on not being the one to fix the problem.

Suddenly, Akaashi realized he’d been consciously distancing himself from Bokuto over the past few weeks. He didn’t want to leave Bokuto, but he realized he might’ve been making that choice.

Maybe he did need to talk. All these thoughts were starting to be too much for one head.

The train ride to Kuroo's apartment was a long one; too much time to think. Akaashi didn't want to think. So he elected not to. Unfortunately his brain had other ideas.

Akaashi thought about Bokuto. Thought about the ever widening distance that had been growing between them since Bokuto went to college. He hated that distance, he hated the fact that he had done nothing to prevent it, hated that he'd started to forget what Bokuto's laugh sounded like.

Akaashi could do nothing, sometimes he felt as though he was barely in control of his own life. Existing only to be led along by life's currents, not putting up a fight, not fighting for the things he wanted. _If it happens, it happens,_ seemed to be how Akaashi was currently living his life.

He realized that if he kept doing this, the current that controlled his life would make him drift away from Bokuto. Drift away from his friends, volleyball, everything. Akaashi would drift and drift until he was all by himself on the lonely sea.

Akaashi was so lost in thought that he arrived at his train stop faster than what seemed should be possible. As he stepped out into the air he looked up at the smog filled sky. There were birds flitting about, and it reminded him of when he would feed birds in the park with Bokuto. God how he missed everything; the present had turned into the past and left an aching, hollow space in his chest.

He closed his eyes and forced his brain to shut up, focusing only on getting to the place where he was supposed to meet Kuroo.

A bell jingled as Akaashi walked into the restaurant. The place was, well, exactly what’d you’d expect from a restaurant across from a shitty apartment complex on some random street on the outskirts of downtown – it was a bit outdated, had seemingly random photos hung up on the wall, and a weird smell lurked in the air that Akaashi couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Kuroo spotted him and waved him over from a table under a framed picture of a Shōjō.

Akaashi slipped into the booth where Kuroo sat content with a bowl of noodles in front of him. He waited for Kuroo to say something.

“So is there really an important reason you made me come, or am I just here to watch you slurp up soba all day?”

Kuroo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey, I’m not _that_ lonely. Or weird.” He glanced over Akaashi’s bag and clothes – he’d changed out of his school uniform. “We’ve all been kind of lonely recently, though, haven’t we?”

“Things are certainly less exciting,” Akaashi replied, “though I don’t mind being alone.”

“Hmm. Me neither, actually. I’m just kind of used to someone always being there, you know?”

“...Yeah.” God, he knew that feeling too well. It was like running out of hot water in the middle of a shower and feeling the warmth fade away as you hurriedly try to get out…

“You miss Nekoma, don’t you Kuroo?”

Kuroo looked up from his bowl. “Heh. You got me. I knew it wasn’t going to last forever but… I guess I can’t help it. You know, just… new home and new school, new people and old people… guess it just makes me a little lonely, huh?” Kuroo grinned.

The corner of Akaashi’s mouth moved up a little. Kuroo spoke from pain but smiled like it was a joke, and for whatever reason that made Akaashi feel a little bit better.

“I feel the same way, I suppose. I–”

Akaashi stopped.

_I miss Fukurodani._

Miss it? Why did he miss when he was still there?

Kuroo gazed at Akaashi. “There’s nothing there for you, is there?”

“W-What?”

“You changed out of your uniform. You weren’t planning on going back, not even for volleyball.” Kuroo gestured at Akaashi’s attire, then looked up into his shocked eyes.

“I changed because if someone saw me walking around in my uniform during school hours I could’ve gotten in trouble.” He defended.

“So you carried your uniform in your _Fukurodani bag?”_ Kuroo raised an eyebrow.

Akaashi scowled.

_What’s he going on about? Why does he care about what I’m wearing and where I’m going after this? He called me here for something important but so far it just seems like simple chatter, despite being a little bit nostalgic. Now he’s pinning the topic on me, seemingly with some sort of purpose. He clearly has something on his mind, but so far has just been building up the conversation to–_

“Oi!” Kuroo karate-chopped Akaashi’s forehead and knocked him out of his thoughts. “You think too much!”

Akaashi rubbed his head. “Can we just get to the important thing you needed to talk about?”

Kuroo sighed. “Alright, fine. It’s about Bokuto.”

“I assumed as much.” Akaashi said. He did not sound excited.

Kuroo could feel the energy of the air around them change with the conversation topic – it felt negative and heavier, like a storm had rolled in. _This is why I wanted to ease into it,_ Kuroo thought.

“He’s… getting better, you know.” He said.

“Is he?”

“Yeah. He seems… happier. Not completely, but… better.”

“That’s… good to hear.”

And really, Akaashi wasn’t lying. There was some hesitance in his heart, but it took a bit of the weight off. At least Bokuto was okay.

“I think he was just really, really overwhelmed,” Kuroo started, “all the new, sudden changes and the work that came with it… I think it was just too much for him.”

“Did you and Daishou help him?” Akaashi asked.

“Once we got ahold of ourselves we did. God, he was just… screaming so much...” Kuroo’s eyes were empty. He remembered the fear and helplessness that consumed him as he sat on the couch in sensory overload, humming with his hands over his ears to block out Bokuto’s terrible cries, eyes squeezed shut and unable to move. He remembered feeling Daishou sit next to him and the pain in his heart doubling. He remembered how useless he felt, how he was a shit friend for shutting down and being unable to help when Bokuto was in so much pain.

“But on one of his worse days I was able to get through to him.” Kuroo continued, “He was just really frustrated and couldn’t focus, which brought out more intrusive thoughts and impulsive behavior, I think. Daishou and I helped him catch up on homework and study, which was a huge feat. It took a while to figure out what worked for him, but once we got a method down it really helped him. He’s seemed a lot better since then.”

Akaashi took a deep breath. Bokuto’s alright. He’s getting better.

And what a shitty friend Akaashi felt like for leaving Bokuto at his worst.

“I can take a guess at what you’re thinking, but I can’t read your mind, you know.” Kuroo said when he got no response.

“What’s your guess then?”

Kuroo sat in thought for a moment. “You feel bad,” he said.

Akaashi sighed and looked down at his hands folded in his lap, “I guess I do.”

“Why?”

“I guess I just sort of left Bokuto hanging.”

"Why don't you tell me your side of the story and I'll tell you whether you should feel bad or not," Kuroo grinned.

"Shouldn't you just tell me not to feel bad and leave it at that?" Akaashi asked.

"Well how would I know whether you should feel bad or not when I don't have the full story?"

"I think you're just fucking nosy."

Kuroo gasped, "I think I just need to have all the details in order to understand. Besides..." Kuroo scratched his neck and diverted his eyes, “I dunno, it seemed like something was bothering you. I want to hear your side of things.”

"So in other words: fucking nosy," Akaashi paused, "but... fine, I'll spill my personal life if it means that much to you."

Kuroo grinned and looked at Akaashi expectantly.

Akaashi sighed. This wasn’t how he planned on spending his afternoon.

"I don't even know my side of the story, honestly. It’s just..." Akaashi trailed off, trying to find the right words. "At Fukurodani, we were a team; whenever someone was down, we’d all make an effort to cheer each other up, especially with Bokuto. We knew just one of us couldn’t handle it all, and when it came to Bokuto, there was a lot to handle. If I didn’t have any more energy left to help Bokuto then the rest of the team would pitch in.”

“So there was a good support system?”

“Yeah. But now I’m the only one left. Our team… we were all good friends, but Bokuto and I were the closest. I don’t plan on leaving him… but that’s exactly what I did, didn’t I?”

Kuroo studied Akaashi – his expression hadn’t changed much but somehow he looked… sadder.

“Why did you leave?” Kuroo breathed.

“It was too much,” Akaashi replied, “I couldn’t suddenly handle the full force of someone else’s emotions on top of my own. I tried so hard for so long… but having to convince someone you care about out of suicide on a regular basis becomes kind of tiring.” He forced out a dry laugh.

“So you’re barely holding yourself together, huh?” Kuroo mused. “I know the feeling. I don’t blame you for what you did.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it was the right or wrong thing to do.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Kuroo said. Akaashi looked up at him with a questioning look. “It’s in the past now. It doesn’t matter if it was right or wrong anymore because it’s over with, and all you can do now is keep moving forward and try to fix what was broken.”

“When did you become so inspirational?”

“Hey, I’m not minoring in writing for nothing,” Kuroo smirked.

Akaashi smiled, but it soon faded away as the mood settled in again. “I dunno, it's just that I can't be the only support there for Bokuto when I'm barely holding myself together. I feel empty, and I'm used to empty, but when I saw Bokuto like that..."

"It hurt," Kuroo finished for him. There was a strange sort of empathy in his eyes, something bittersweet and painful. Akaashi wondered who Kuroo was hurting for.

"Do you love him?" Kuroo asked suddenly.

Akaashi felt his heart lurch. Love? Deep down he knew the answer, and he’d even admitted it to himself a few times, but Akaashi did nothing better than doubt.

"I don’t know. What is love supposed to feel like?"

Kuroo opened his mouth like he was about to recite his first draft of _Kuroo Tetsurou’s Guide to Love Vol. 1,_ but then apparently changed his mind. "How would I know?"

An uneasy silence washed over them.

"I guess I'm just scared," Akaashi finally said.

"Of what?"

"Bokuto's probably been the longest connection I've had with someone that's not surface level. I'm afraid of fucking it up. I'm scared to love him."

"Scared? Of loving Bokuto?" There was so much empathy in Kuroo's voice that Akaashi couldn't stand it. He could tell that Kuroo had probably been in his position before, yet it was the questioning tone that felt like a stab to the heart. How could Akaashi be scared of loving _Bokuto?_

Akaashi knew that he loved Bokuto, he just really didn't want to admit it to himself. He wasn't scared of loving Bokuto – he was scared of the fact that he _did_ love Bokuto.

Akaashi felt like he had always loved Bokuto, but with Kuroo's question he finally let himself fully realize it.

Suddenly, Akaashi wasn't as afraid anymore.

Because to Akaashi, loving Bokuto was the easiest thing in the world. He'd been doing it unconsciously all this time. All this time Akaashi had been afraid of something that had already happened. All this time.

Kuroo knew it, he knew that when you really loved someone, it was the easiest thing you could do. He knew Akaashi loved Bokuto. He knew Akaashi was getting in the way of his own feelings, that logic and life was going to fuck up what could've been.

Kuroo was determined to stop it this time.

Akaashi looked up at Kuroo, "What do I do?"

"Don't do anything."

"What?"

"No offense, but if you do anything you're bound to fuck it up. I know you’re trying so hard to follow your head, but sometimes you just gotta do what feels right. Just let life take its course. Let it happen, because it's bound to.” Though he looked a bit sad, Kuroo’s eyes were set on Akaashi’s, determined and completely serious.

"Okay," Akaashi breathed. He was relatively good at doing nothing. "You done forcing me into having multiple existential crises?"

"Yeah I'm done now. You can go," Kuroo smirked.

Akaashi grabbed his bag, and stood up to leave. He hesitated.

"Hey Kuroo?"

"What?"

"Thanks."

"Anytime. I'm the best life coach."

"I think you need to have your own life together in order to be a life coach," Akaashi deadpanned.

"Rude."

They said goodbye and after Akaashi left, he looked up at the sky.

He felt hopeful, for the first time in a long time.

 

 **> bokuto**: ehy wanna watch sailor moon

 **> >keiji:** sure

 **> >keiji:** want me to come over?

 **> bokuto:** yeah!! that'd be great!!

Akaashi stared at the texts. It was almost four in the morning and Akaashi hadn't slept at all.

He glanced over at Bokuto, who was passed out on the couch next to him, computer in his lap.

He had no idea what would happen, but sitting next to Bokuto in the dark, he felt warm. He felt hopeful. He finally let himself feel the love that he had for Bokuto.

Things weren't solved, not even close. There were still problems, there was still pain. Things were more complicated than ever with Akaashi's self-realization, but just being around Bokuto again made Akaashi feel as though everything would be okay.

Akaashi glanced at the time on his phone. He needed to get some sleep.

He nudged Bokuto awake, who jolted upwards and almost dropped his laptop on the floor.

When Bokuto saw Akaashi his entire face broke out in a grin and Akaashi couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey," Bokuto whispered loudly.

"Hey," Akaashi parroted, "You should go to bed."

"Yeah okay," Bokuto closed his laptop and stood up. "Hey Akaashi?"

"Yeah?"

Bokuto hesitated, "It's nothing, nevermind. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Bokuto walked off to his room and Akaashi heard the door close.

_What were you going to say, Bokuto? What is it?_

Akaashi's ungodly loud alarm went off at six in the morning and as soon as his eyes opened he heard Kuroo yelling.

"What the FUCK," Kuroo stormed out of his bedroom.

Akaashi stopped the alarm, figured out where he was, sighed, and apathetically got up to attempt to get ready.

Kuroo had this awful expression on his face that was a mixture of anger and confusion. “When did you get here and why did your god awful alarm go off so loud?”

“Uh, like two in the morning? And because I need to go to school in an hour.” Akaashi replied, still about 40% asleep.

“What brings you to our humble apartment at two AM on a school night?”

“Bokuto wanted to watch Sailor Moon.”

Kuroo smirked at him.

"What?" Akaashi snapped. He had gotten two hours of sleep and it was _far_ too early to deal with Kuroo's smugness.

"What happened?" Kuroo asked, undeterred by Akaashi's bitterness.

He sighed, "Literally nothing, actually."

"Give me the play-by-play."

"Why?" Akaashi mostly asked no one, because currently, he was not in the mood to talk to anyone, let alone Kuroo.

"Because I'm, as you put it, 'fucking nosy.'"

"Fine," he sighed again, "Bokuto asked if I wanted to watch Sailor Moon so I came over and we watched like four episodes before we fell asleep."

Kuroo frowned. "Well that was anti-climatic.”

"I told you nothing happened. Now please excuse me, I need to leave and get ready for school."

"I just need to say a few things first."

"Of course you do."

"Just so you know, as long as you let it, things will work out," Kuroo said.

Akaashi said nothing, and, much to his dismay, Kuroo continued.

“Are things starting to feel better?” He asked.

Akaashi considered this. “Yeah. I think so.”

Kuroo let out a small sigh of relief. "That’s good. Hey listen, I know I said do nothing the last time we talked, but that’s probably not the best advice. Sometimes, you need to at least do _something._ Sometimes doing nothing might screw you over.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“You just need to be honest with yourself and your feelings and not let your head get in the way. Even though it's hard, I think that's what you need to do to make it work."

"I don't have feelings," Akaashi said flatly.

“Bullshit,” Kuroo scoffed, "I'm trying to be genuine here. Before you go, just know that even if it gets worse, or even if it takes a long time, things can always work out. Don't hold back, don't force your feelings down, and don't lie to yourself. Just... just don't make the same mistakes I did," Kuroo's voice was full of sadness. Akaashi stopped being irritated and was forced to take him seriously.

"What mistakes?" he asked.

"...Let's just say my head and my heart were of conflicting minds, and I went with the wrong one."

There was a beat of silence. Kuroo opened his mouth to say something when the door to Daishou's room slammed shut.

Daishou walked out of the hallway and greeted Akaashi with a similar face of confusion as Kuroo’s. "What’re you doing here?" he asked Akaashi.

"I'm being held hostage and prevented from getting ready for school," Akaashi pointed at Kuroo in accusation. Suddenly he realized something, "Wait, where's Bokuto?"

"Probably out in the park feeding birds," Daishou replied.

"He's never here in the mornings anymore, he gets up at like five, like a serial killer," Kuroo explained.

Akaashi felt a pang of nostalgia at the mention of feeding birds. "Oh," he said.

Kuroo and Daishou shared a knowing look.

"Okay, no offense, but seriously, what do you see in him?" Daishou asked suddenly, somehow privy to Akaashi's personal feelings about Bokuto, to Akaashi's distress.

Rather than deny it Akaashi shrugged, almost sadly. He was silent for a moment. "He makes me laugh," he said quietly.

No one knew what to say to that.

"I have to not go to school now," Akaashi said, breaking the silence. He grabbed his bag from beside the couch, and immediately walked out the door.

By the time Akaashi found the park, the sun was starting to rise and he’d pretty much ditched the idea of going to school. He scanned the park for Bokuto and found him sitting across from a small pond, at the same bench they’d sit at together during high school.

Akaashi walked up to the bench he was seated on. Bokuto glanced up at him but said nothing. Akaashi sat down and held his hand out and Bokuto gave him a handful of birdseed.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a bit, feeding the birds and taking in the morning air.

"Don't you have school?" Bokuto asked after a few minutes.

"Don't you?"

"I have afternoon classes on Thursdays and Fridays. What's your excuse?"

"I stopped going for a while. Guess I don't really see the point today," he admitted.

Bokuto was quiet, throwing out handfuls of birdseed to passing birds. He seemed uncharacteristically serious, but not quite sad.

"You gotta go to school," he said, not looking at Akaashi.

"I will tomorrow. How have things been?" Akaashi asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Bokuto exhaled softly, and Akaashi could faintly see his breath in the cool morning air. "Good, actually. Better. Kuroo and Daishou helped a lot. I got all my homework done in one night and I've been keeping up on it since," Bokuto looked and sounded proud and Akaashi couldn't help but smile. "What about you?" Bokuto asked.

"Okay, I think. I had a rough couple of weeks, but I feel better now," Akaashi replied. "How's volleyball?"

Bokuto visibly deflated and scrunched his face up. "It’s frustrating as hell! Well, like, it's okay, but it's not as fun because I'm not the ace or the captain anymore and I keep getting blocked! It feels weird because I can’t spike as freely and everyone else is so good. Plus, you're not setting for me anymore! But I still like it."

“You’re gonna improve, Bokuto. This is just another place where you’ll get better than you already are.” Akaashi smirked and glanced at Bokuto, “Plus, you’re up for the challenge, right?”

Bokuto jumped up, “Hell yeah I am!” He yelled, scaring away all the birds. They both smiled. Bokuto sat back down. “The only thing is that they’re kind of tough when I get upset.”

“Hm, maybe I should visit and give the captain a few pointers,” Akaashi murmured to himself.

“Ah! No, no need for that!” Bokuto laughed, waving profusely.

"I’m sure it will get better," Akaashi said. "Everything will be okay," he reassured, somehow believing it.

Bokuto looked at Akaashi and smiled. Akaashi found himself getting lost in Bokuto's golden eyes.

"You know, it’s pretty quiet at Fukurodani without you around. I... I guess I miss you," the words were out of Akaashi's mouth before he could even process it and he wondered what happened to his impulse control.

Bokuto said nothing for a moment.

"Boku–"

"I miss you too," Bokuto interrupted. As Akaashi looked at him he realized he was holding back tears.

"Bokuto what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Bokuto turned to face Akaashi with a giant smile on his face. Tears streamed down his face, glimmering in the rising sun, "I’m just really happy."

Akaashi did his best to hold back his big dumb grin, but was so fucking relieved he couldn’t stand it. Bokuto was happy now. He had nothing to be worried about. Yet... he couldn't shake the weight off his shoulders or the emptiness in his chest. He felt a bit better, but not as much as he thought he would.

It must've shown on his face because suddenly Bokuto asked, "What's wrong?"

Akaashi looked away. "I... I don't know. I just feel... weird. I thought I'd feel better once you did but I still feel heavy."

"Well of course you don't feel better; we're not the same person. If you're sad you're sad and nothing's gonna change just someone else feels better," Bokuto hesitated, "Besides, you just need time to be sad. But that doesn't mean you can't be happy too. The two aren't exactly exclusive," Bokuto was beaming at him. "And I'm gonna do everything I can to cheer you up!"

Akaashi felt his heart squeeze tight at those words.

"Bokuto I... I really missed you," Akaashi said, and suddenly tears were welling in his eyes and words were pouring out of him. "I'm sorry I left, I was tired and frustrated and seeing you like that hurt so much, I… I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t want to get mad..." Akaashi slowed his speech, took a deep breath, and threw some birdseed at a passing sparrow. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but I really care about you, Bokuto. Sometimes I just wish no one cared about me so I could just... fade away. I'm sorry I did all that I... I just didn't know how to deal with everything. I just needed a break from my head and from yours."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Bokuto said softly. "I'm okay now, and you're going to be okay too," Bokuto paused but Akaashi said nothing. "Also how the hell do you think this works? You don't want to be cared about? Well too bad because I'm gonna care about you anyways, and enough for the both of us!" He exclaimed.

"Everything would be so much easier if you didn't..."

"Akaashi, I love you," he said it so flatly and effortlessly Akaashi almost laughed.

"I love you too," Akaashi's heart was pounding in his chest and the feeling of anxiety was coursing through his body, but he felt happy. He was sad, but he would probably always be a little bit sad. All that mattered now is that he felt happy, and happier than he had been in a long, long time.

"I think I love you more than I've loved anyone."

Akaashi’s happy tears pushed from behind his eyes, and he blinked and wiped them away. He was overwhelmed, but in a good way.

"Me too," was all Akaashi could manage to say.

They stared out at the sunrise together and Bokuto took Akaashi's hand. He scooted closer to Akaashi so that their shoulders touched.

"How am I supposed to feed birds if you're holding my hand?"

"I dunno, figure it out."

They sat in happy silence for a few minutes.

"That's exactly what we're going to do, you know? Figure it out," Akaashi said.

Bokuto smiled at him, "Yeah. We'll figure it out."


	18. 10 Incredible Uses For Grocery Bags

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry we havent updated in a bit, so here's a half chapter lol. i just finished up staying a week at SCAD and that was pretty cool but im hoping ill get back to writing soon. anyways i hope you like this little snippet, it was all esmae lmao.
> 
> \- cameron
> 
>  
> 
> we haven't updated in so long fdjhgfhg so enjoy this half chapter. btw this is based on my first-hand knowledge lmfao. hopefully we'll update soon with a Real™ chapter. my job's been kicking my ass so i don't have a lot of time to write but we're still trying to update asap. theres an Important Chapter coming up soon so look forward to that lol
> 
> -esmae

"Kuroo, that's fucking cold!" Daishou screeched.

"Well I'm sorry your highness do you want me to warm it up in the microwave?"

"Yes."

"Too bad." 

Kuroo was dyeing – actually, being forced to dye – Daishou's hair green.

It had faded into an ugly, cartoon, vomit color, which Kuroo constantly pointed out. Daishou ignored him; invulnerable to his insults for the most part. However, when Bokuto told him he looked like The Joker, Daishou fucking lost it. He went out and bought some hair dye right then and there. 

When he came back his first words were, "Someone's gonna need to help me."

On the word, 'help' Bokuto leaped off the couch and fled to his room. No offense to Daishou, it was just that he had dyed his hair before and he knew what a fucking hassle it was, and was not ready to sacrifice his soul once more for the sake of someone else. Bokuto would dye his own hair, but to be asked to be put through that absolute suffering for Daishou, was a solid no.

"I can't believe I have you helping me, of all people," Daishou snarled at Kuroo, flinching as Kuroo applied the too-cold hair dye to Daishou's hair with a suspicious looking paintbrush he had found under the kitchen sink. 

"Why don't you get it done professionally then?" 

"I would but you and Bokuto's dumbass bitch jar has drained me of all my spending money. Do you know how expensive it is to get your hair dyed professionally?"

"Wouldn't know, never dyed my hair."

"Oh yeah, that's right. It's just naturally that ugly."

Kuroo yanked on Daishou's hair with one of his plastic-gloved hands. The gloves had also been found under the kitchen sink; they had a lot of shit under there. 

"Ow!" Daishou snapped. 

"You were being an asshole. That's what you get. I, being the incredibly kind soul I am, am helping you dye your nasty ass hair, and return the favor by  _ insulting _ me? Did you ever learn manners?"

Daishou just glared. 

 

To Daishou, dyeing his hair by himself (with the help of his asshole roommate) sounded fun and all, until he was sitting on the toilet with ice-cold hair dye dripping down his face, probably staining his skin green for 47 years.

"Can you get me a plastic bag or something?" Daishou asked Kuroo, when a drop of hair dye started making its way down his forehead towards his eye. 

Kuroo was sitting on the bathroom floor, laughing every time Daishou complained about his situation. He glanced up from his phone. 

Kuroo immediately burst out laughing, "You look ridiculous." He then looked back at his phone. 

"I think you did something wrong, it was never like this when I dyed it before."

"Fuck off. I've never dyed anyones hair."

"Why isn't Bokuto doing this?"

"I don't know, he mumbled something about pain and suffering, and then made me do it."

"Bokuto probably doesn't like to sit still for this long. Now can you get me a  plastic bag now?"

Kuroo glared but stood up and went to the kitchen. He came back holding a supermarket bag. 

"Really?"

"It's literally all we have. And that's only because you insist on keeping grocery bags."

Kuroo tied the bag around Daishou's head by the handles, stepped back, and wheezed with laughter. 

"You look even more ridiculous now," he stated once he finished laughing. 

"Really? I couldn't tell from your ugly ass laugh."

Kuroo glared, sat back down on the floor and played on his phone for the remainder of the two hours. 

Yes, Daishou Suguru sat on a toilet with a plastic bag tied around his face for two entire hours. 

Finally the timer on Kuroo's phone beeped, and Daishou stood up, almost joyously, ripped the plastic bag off of his head, and ran his head under the bathroom sink faucet. 

Once it felt like he had gotten all the dye out (he hadn't) he looked at his hair in the mirror. 

Thank  _ god _ the ugly puke color was gone, replaced by Daishou's normal hair coloring. 

"What am I supposed to do with the rest of this?" Kuroo asked, holding the tupperware container with the remainder of the green hair dye. 

"Throw it away you fucking idiot," Daishou, although glad he no longer looked like a fictional edgelord supervillain, was tired and had been trapped in a small room with Kuroo for the past two and a half hours. Why Kuroo didn't leave while Daishou waited, he had no idea. So he might have been meaner than he should've been. 

Kuroo was tired and annoyed as well. If Daishou had taken this into consideration perhaps what was about to happen wouldn't have. 

Kuroo considered Daishou's statement for a moment, then dumped the rest of the hair dye on Daishou's head. 

"I fucking hate you," Daishou growled. 

"Ditto."


	19. Why It's Okay To Lie On The Witness Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back! hello, sorry it took us like a million years to get out this chapter lmao >:V. that hopefully will be the longest gap between chapters you'll have to endure. trust me, if you were frustrated from the lack of updates, i can guarantee we were at least 10x more upset with us than you were lmao.  
> anyways, here's a chapter! i hope y'all like it. sorry if there's any mistakes anywhere, my girl hurricane irma took out my power in the middle of editing so i had to finish it up on my phone. also, i added links to songs in asterisks to make this chapter 100x dumber and more dramatic than it needs to be.  
> also, we're how many chapters in and never mentioned the song the title of this fic is based off of? if you didn't already catch it, the title of this fic is based off this [song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flKd80xRazk)  
> i hope you enjoy!  
> \- cameron
> 
> rjktdhfdkjhgfdkjgthfdmnghsdkjfhsdgjdgksdkhflsxgsd this took so long to get out forgive us pleas.  
> anyWAys let's pretend this chapter didn't take 2 months to publish and just move on,,,,,  
> not much plot happens in this chapter but the next two chapters have plenty to make up for it and also this chapter is really funny imo so hopefully all that will make it worth the wait  
> once again i apologize for this chapter taking so long and hopefully that will never happen again :v  
> there's lots of links in this chapter and i highly suggest you click them to both enhance your reading experience and understand some of the jokes lmao  
> hopefully the next chapter we'll be up soon so yall can get back into the swing of this fic  
> anyways im glad to be back writing for this fic!! i hope you like this chapter!  
> (ps if anything looks fucky it's bc ao3 didn't like all the links so i had to go thru and code them in like 7 times so if anything looks Weird lmk)  
> -esmae

Sometimes Kuroo and Daishou argued just for the sake of arguing. They constantly picked petty fights, and if they weren't arguing they made snarky comments throughout "normal" conversation. They mocked each other, belittled each other, and argued _fucking constantly,_ but somehow throughout it all they were "friends".

It was a mystery to everyone, honestly.

Bokuto had seen them be genuine maybe three and half times in the long (long) months he had lived with them. It certainly couldn't be healthy, yet neither of them seemed at all deeply affected by the constant insults. It couldn't really be considered friendship, more like an intense, dramatic rivalry of who could be the biggest asshole.

Bokuto wondered why they went to such lengths to always be talking if they hated each other, though it was more like "speaking loudly in an outraged tone at two in the morning" than talking.

Whatever Kuroo and Daishou's relationship was, Bokuto was fucking sick of it.

Normally Bokuto wasn’t bothered by noise, but when it was _right outside his room_ it starts to become a problem.

"Do you know how long it took me to put all the beads together to form Nicolas Cage's face? All the effort I put into that! Wasted on you!" Kuroo's voice was muffled through Bokuto's door but still loud (and distracting).

"Oh please, you and I both know you stole this from a garage sale because you didn't have 99 cents on you. And you gave it to me, so therefore, it's mine."

They argued like that with increasing insistency for, frankly, an unacceptable amount of time.

Suddenly, Bokuto’s door flew open.

“Hey!”

The pair stopped arguing and turned towards the angry large man in the doorway.

“If you two can’t stop loudly arguing over whose Nicolas Cage picture that is I’m going to kick a hole through the wall so _please_ try to share something for once.”

Kuroo sighed. “Sorry, Bokuto. I guess it’s not really that important.”

“Not that important?” Daishou cut in, “If it’s not that important why won’t you just _admit_ that it’s mine?”

“Because it’s _not_ yours!”

And just like that, they were arguing again.

Sick and tired of this bullshit, Bokuto left his room and came back moments later without either of the pair noticing.

Kuroo was gesturing wildly as he always did when he was trying to prove a point, so while his arms were outstretched Bokuto placed an egg in Kuroo’s hand.

Kuroo stopped mid-sentence and looked at the egg in his hand.

"What."

"If you two don’t know how to share something, you’re going to learn to with this." Bokuto replied, gesturing to the egg.

"An egg," Kuroo said flatly.

"Yep."

"Why an egg?" Daishou asked.

“I saw this on a sitcom once,” Bokuto said, as if fictional television shows were normal and reliable sources of information. "This is your child now. You're not allowed to argue around it and you're not allowed to use it as a projectile. Basically, don't traumatize the egg the way you've traumatized me and maybe I can actually get work done," Bokuto explained.

“Um, I don’t know about this guy,” Kuroo nodded towards Daishou, “but I don’t need an egg to teach me how to share.”

“Then prove it!”

Kuroo raised his hand but proceeded to talk anyways when Bokuto ignored him, "What's stopping us from sticking the egg somewhere it can't hear us and arguing anyway?"

"That's neglect and therefore egg-abuse. Also I’ll beat the shit out of you"

Daishou suddenly chimed in, "Wait, does this mean we're married?"

Bokuto thought for a moment, "I guess since it would be traumatizing for the egg to have divorced parents, and you're not allowed to traumatize the egg, you _have_ to be married," he decided.

"Wouldn't it be more traumatizing to know your parents are in a loveless relationship?"

"Dude, just fake it, parents do that shit all the time."

Daishou opened his mouth to speak but closed it. Kuroo spoke instead, "Kids, excuse me, _eggs_ , are intuitive though. Wouldn't the egg know?"

"This one's dumb."

"How dare you speak to our child like that. Daishou, call his manager."

“Kuroo, it’s an egg.”

“How dare you say that in front of our own child like that. I’m calling _your_ manager.”

“Good luck fucker I got fired from my job two weeks ago,” Daishou scoffed.

“Wait wha–” Bokuto, who was seriously concerned about how Daishou was going to pay rent this month, was promptly cut off by Kuroo.

Kuroo put his hands around the egg’s ‘ears’. “How do you expect to support our family? We could starve.”

“No, for real, how are you going to pay rent?”

Daishou ignored Bokuto’s question, “Why don’t you be the breadwinner for once, you sick, lazy, fu–”

“Not in front of the child!”

Bokuto sighed in defeat, “Oh my god. This is clearly not working. Give me back the egg. I’m hungry.”

Kuroo gasped and Daishou took the egg out of his hand.

“No. It’s mine–”

“Ours,” Kuroo corrected.

Daishou glared, “It’s _ours_ now.” He then grabbed a sharpie off of the table in the hallway that was used to write Bitch Jar Occurrences on a list next to the mug. He held the egg in his hand, squinted, and started drawing.

Kuroo gasped in horror, “What are you doing?!”

“Character development.” When he finished scribbling on the egg, he presented it to Kuroo and Bokuto.

“HE’S UGLY!” Kuroo yelled.

Bokuto frowned, “I liked him better when he was blank.”

“He truly is his father’s son,” Kuroo said after he recovered from his initial shock of seeing his son turned into a hellish looking creature. He wiped an invisible tear from the corner of his eye.

“You’re his father too so you just played yourself,” Daishou snapped.

Kuroo ignored him. “Maybe I can learn to love my ugly son.”

“He’s not that ugly,” Daishou said, looking upon the egg lovingly, as though it was his actual child.

Kuroo snatched the egg out of Daishou’s hand. “I’m gonna name him Sushi.”

“Why the FUCK are you naming him sushi, he’s an egg!”

“How _dare_ you call him that.”

“Oh my god.”

“Okay fine, I’ll name him Tamagoyaki.”

“Why are _you_ deciding the name?”

“You made him ugly so I choose the name.”

Bokuto shrugged to himself as if to say _fair enough._

“At least don’t name it after food.” Daishou pleaded.

Kuroo gazed at the egg in thought. “Maybe if his name is ugly then two negatives will make a positive…”

“Uh, alright,” Daishou said, “What’s an ugly name?”

“Suguru.”

“I’m getting a divorce.”

“How long do we have to keep this up?” Kuroo turned to Bokuto, pleading.

“Uh, for like, two days. I have to make up a test on Thursday and I don’t wanna fail it this time because of you two’s arguing.”

“Two whole days?” Daishou asked, incredulous.

“Oh come on, you guys can stop arguing for two days. Right?”

Wrong.

If anything, Kuroo and Daishou only argued more, except they argued specifically about the egg.

Bokuto finally caved and bought some expensive ass noise cancelling headphones. They worked really well. _Too_ well. In fact, Bokuto couldn’t wear them for more than thirty minutes at a time because it was so silent, he could feel his soul being pulled back into the void.

When he was not wearing them, he could hear Kuroo and Daishou’s arguments all too well.

Some highlights included:

“This family is falling apart and it’s all because you won’t get a job!”

“Oh yeah well… you– your hair is falling apart!”

“How dare you!”

Another time Bokuto had taken off his headphones while they were in the middle of an argument. All he could here was Kuroo fake crying and running towards his room, and Daishou running after him practically screaming.

“I don’t damn shit fuck about you give me back our child!”

“Never!”

“You don’t even like him anyways, you called him ugly!” Daishou accused.

“He may be ugly on the outside,” Kuroo stopped right outside Bokuto’s door, “but at least he’s not as ugly on the inside as you are, Mister. He’s Just An Egg.”

“You do realize it is just an egg, right?”

Kuroo gasped, went into his room, and slammed the door.

One of the final incidents happened after Bokuto’s test while he was sitting on the couch.

A nice old lady came from across the hallway to deliver a muffin basket out of the pure kindness of her heart.

Before she could even open her mouth to say something, Kuroo was talking.

“Do they have eggs in them?”

“Oh– um yes, they do,” she smiled sweetly and Daishou punched Kuroo from behind the door in attempt to get him to move, it didn’t work.

“I’m sorry I’m allergic to eggs.” Daishou punched him again and Kuroo made an audible noise of pain. The old woman frowned.

“Well perhaps one of your friends–”

“Nope they’re allergic to eggs as well. Goodbye. Thank you so much for your trouble, though.” Kuroo was infuriatingly polite even when he was being a dick.

“Oh, it’s no problem really,” the woman smiled and Kuroo closed the door as she walked away.

“What the FUCK dude?” Daishou yelled.

“What?”

“You are not allergic to eggs!”

“I am now.”

“Well we aren’t either.”

“Listen none of you are allowed to eat eggs as long as Tamagoyaki remains in my custody.”

Bokuto who had been lazily scrolling through his phone on the couch now joined the conversation.

“Um? No?” he said, as making omelets and scrambled eggs was one of Bokuto’s favorite pastimes.

“My house, my rules.”

“It’s our house,” Daishou sighed.

“Whatever. No eggs.”

No one adhered to this rule except for Kuroo, however, it still pissed off Bokuto and Daishou anyways.

The most severe and violent egg incident was actually Bokuto’s doing. He was bored, as he had nothing to study for, nothing to hyperfixate on, and essentially, nothing to do.

Bokuto wandered into the kitchen, violently spinning a fidget spinner in his hand. He spotted Kuroo and Daishou’s egg that they had left on the counter, then glanced down at the fidget spinner in his hand. He looked back and forth between the two for a moment, then had one of his famous Ideas™. He grabbed the egg from the counter and two more out of the fridge and got to work.

He went into his room, disassembled his fidget spinner and pocketed the spinning bearing. Bokuto then spent an hour looking for the hot glue gun, and found it under the kitchen sink along with a shit load of other things they never used.

Kuroo and Daishou had emerged from their rooms by this time to watch some obscure anime on the couch.

“Uh. What’re you doing with the hot glue gun there buddy?” Kuroo asked. He was pretty sure no one had touched that glue gun since Kuroo bought it to hot glue a handmade wood sign that said “plantfucker” onto Daishou’s door.

“You’ll see,” was all Bokuto said.

Ten minutes later Bokuto came out of his room with his creation in hand.

He had glued three eggs – one of them being Kuroo and Daishou’s dear child – to the ends of his fidget spinner, stuck it on one of his pencils, and was now spinning it around.

“Haha, guys look.”

Kuroo picked up the remote and muted the TV, because this was obviously something that needed his full attention. “Bokuto, what in the name of everloving fuck is that?”

“An [egg-spinner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOxb1X_HpXU)!” Bokuto replied. He gave his so-called ‘egg-spinner’ another aggressive push and it spun around again.

“Wait a minute,” Kuroo squinted at the spinning eggs and _definitely_ recognized an uglyass face on one of them. “IS THAT TAMAGOYAKI?” Kuroo yelled.

“Yeah. You guys left him alone on the counter so Uncle Bokuto is taking him for a spin.” Bokuto said, continuously twirling the eggs on his pencil.

Daishou started talking over Bokuto as he stared in horror at the unholy device. “Holy shit, Bokuto stop, one of them is gonna fall–”

At that precise moment Tamagoyaki did not fall; instead, it went _flying_ into the wall and shattered into smithereens, its yolky insides sliding to the floor.

The trio stared at the remains of the egg child in horror for a solid four and a half seconds before all hell broke loose.

Kuroo made a quiet noise which gradually grew in pitch and volume until he was full on _shrieking_ in the middle of their god damn living room. He then began to shout incoherent phrases at Bokuto all while wildly waving his arms around like he was a windmill on steroids.

“You! Oh my- HE’S DEAD!” he shouted as Bokuto apologized profusely.

Daishou meanwhile, fell to the floor and burst out laughing.

“What are YOU laughing at?”

“You look ridiculous,” Daishou replied, wheezing.

“I don’t have time to deal with your nonsense. You!” Kuroo said, wheeling on Bokuto. “You _murdered_ him!” Kuroo yelled.

“It was an accident!” Bokuto cried.

“He’s _dead_ because of you!”

“Again, accident!”

“I’m taking this to court!”

“Oh my god, you can’t be serious, Kuroo,” Daishou replied, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“I am, and I’m going to represent the prosecution in _Bokuto v. State_ and charge Bokuto for the murder of Tamagoyaki Kuroo-Daishou.”

Bokuto dropped to his knees in the most dramatic fashion and covered his face with his hands. “I’m gonna be left for de-e-eaad!”

Daishou kneeled down and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry Bokuto, I’ll defend you.”

Bokuto looked up. “You will?”

“You’re going to defend a _murderer?”_ Kuroo’s face was one of absolute disgust.

“Of course I am, because it was an accident and he needs a fair trial!”

Kuroo straightened up and put a hand to his chin. “I suppose that’s true. Hmm… a guy who acts nice and respectable on the outside but is actually a snake on the inside, and someone who would use this to their advantage to do whatever it takes to win… you’d make a perfect lawyer, Daishou!”

“Holy shit.”

“Anyways, we’ll hold the trial here in exactly an hour.” Kuroo grabbed Bokuto by the wrists and pulled him up. “Bokuto, you’re coming with me to the Detention Center for questioning. Daishou, you set up the courtroom and call Akaashi to be the judge.”

“Okay, but you realize Akaashi’s gonna be biased, right?”

“I’m not worried about that. Akaashi knows when to call out Bokuto on his shit.”

“Fair enough.”

With that, Kuroo took Bokuto away to the “detention center” (aka the bathroom) and Daishou got to work. About ten minutes later, Kuroo came back out and suggested Daishou talk to his defendant.

“Careful though, he’s kind of pissed right now.” He warned.

“Yeah, no shit,” Daishou said. He rounded the corner to the hallway and entered the bathroom. Bokuto was sitting in the bathtub.

“Dude, what’re you doing?”

“This is my cell, according to Kuroo…” Bokuto grumbled. He sighed and leaned his back against the end of the tub with a _thunk,_ arms crossed. “This is dumb.”

“Yeah, well, Kuroo’s not gonna give this up until it’s over.” Daishou replied. He echoed Bokuto’s sigh. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, then?”[*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KD_mdtSEGAw)

“I was bored out of my mind, and I saw your egg left unattended on the counter. Then I got the idea to make my egg spinner.”

“Unattended, huh? I should be writing this down…” Daishou dug his phone out of his pocket and started taking notes.

“Yeah, and it took me, like, a million years to find the hot glue gun. Mostly ‘cuz I kept getting distracted and forgot what I was doing… But I really didn’t mean to break the egg! You gotta believe me, Daishou!”

“I know you didn’t, Bokuto. Kuroo’s just being a jackass. In all honesty, we’re at a big disadvantage here.” Daishou rubbed his neck. “He has an entire arsenal of things he could throw at us, not to mention that you actually _did_ break the egg, accident or not…” He rambled on and on, and if Bokuto was being honest, he zoned out about halfway through.

“Hey Daishou?” Bokuto interrupted.

“Hm? Yeah?”

“Do you think Kuroo’s okay?”

Daishou blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno. He just seems kinda off.”

“You mean aside from this crazy egg thing?”

“I guess. You haven’t noticed anything?”

Daishou wasn’t sure what to say to that. Daishou was a very observant person – even _too_ observant at times. Of course he noticed things about Kuroo, even if he didn’t want to. He noticed when he was upset, when he was excited about something, when he got a more fitful night of sleep than usual. It’s not that he wanted to, just that when you know someone for long enough, these sort of things kind of become second nature. Regardless, Daishou did his best to stay out of Kuroo’s way and ignore old habits, whereas Bokuto was Kuroo’s friend. Daishou was sure that Bokuto noticed things he didn’t, after all – he was that type of person that was more observant than he seemed.

“Not sure,” he settled on saying.

Bokuto’s mind already seemed to be on something else. “Hm, whatever. Do you have more questions for me?”

“I don’t know, really, I was just gonna wing it,” Daishou admitted. “What did you tell Kuroo?”

“I told him to fuck off and that this whole thing was stupid.”

“Understandable, but what did you tell him regarding the case?”

“Oh, well I told him the same thing I told you.”

“So he has nothing but vague information…” Daishou mused, then visibly deflated. “But we’re in the same boat. It really is a clear-cut case…”

“So there really is no hope for me…” Bokuto wept.

Daishou waved his hands frantically in an attempt to get Bokuto to stop crying or screaming or whatever it was he was about to do. “No, no, no! We’ll be okay, don’t worry.”

Bokuto sniffed. “You think so?”

“Of course,” Daishou lied.

Daishou asked Bokuto a few more questions, hoping to squeeze as much (probably useless) information out of him.

Finally they left the bathroom and walked into the “courtroom,” which was just their slightly modified living room.

Kuroo exited his room carrying a music stand which he must’ve pulled out of his ass.

“Akaashi’s coming over,” he said, setting the music stand down in front of the swivel chair.

“Why?” Daishou asked. He had called Akaashi earlier, and he’d seemed very reluctant to even do the entire thing over the phone, let alone get on a train and come all the way over to their apartment.

“I asked him to. Well, more like forced him to.”

“Great,” Daishou replied. They already had enough to deal with with everything going on. Daishou had never seen a pissed off Akaashi, and frankly, didn’t want to. He doubted Akaashi would be angry though, disgruntled at worst. However, Akaashi scared the holy living shit out of Daishou, so it might as well have been the same thing.

As they waited for Akaashi to arrive, Daishou showed them the makeshift courtroom: the prosecution’s table (the coffee table), the defense’s table (the table from the hallway), the judge’s bench (the swivel chair and music stand), the witness stand (a barstool), and the accused’s seat (the couch). They somehow managed to briefly argue over the setup until Akaashi invited himself in.

“I can’t believe you dragged me over here for an egg,” he said, glaring at Kuroo.

“He was _my_ egg. And your boyfriend killed him,” Kuroo dabbed at nonexistent tears. “He’s gone forever now.”

Akaashi just rolled his eyes. “And what exactly is my role in this?”

Kuroo pointed at the swivel chair with the music stand in front of it. “Just sit there and listen to us, then say whether or not Bokuto’s guilty.”

Akaashi walked over to the chair and picked up the spoon that was sitting on the stand. “And what’s this?”

“Uh, it’s a _gavel_ ,” Kuroo replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oooookay,” Akaashi said in a sarcastic tone that also sounded as though he was concerned for Kuroo’s mental health.  

Everyone took their respective seats and Akaashi sat awkwardly in front of them. He took the spoon and tapped it against the music stand. “Court is now in session.” [*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=As6NRNCeMRI)

“Stronger,” Kuroo urged.

“Uh…” Akaashi looked at Kuroo with an increasing amount of worry and confusion and hit the spoon on the stand with more force. “Court is now in session. Prosecution, give your opening statement.” He said, trying to recall all the buried knowledge of law shows he used to watch with his mom.

Kuroo stood up. “This is a very simple case. There were not one, not two, but three witnesses to this heinous crime. Unfortunately, as the defense and I constitute two thirds of those witnesses, I can only call upon one,” he glared at Daishou. “The defendant, Bokuto Koutarou, killed Tamagoyaki Kuroo-Daishou at approximately 2:27 PM. The murder weapon? A fidget spinner. The accused glued three eggs to a fidget spinner – one being the victim – and sent the victim flying into the wall. Hours before, he was seen gathering the materials for the murder weapon. It is obvious to see that this was premeditated killing, and therefore the prosecution charges Bokuto Koutarou with first degree murder. Today, I hope you can find the truth in your heart, Your Honor, and get justice for Tamagoyaki.” Kuroo bowed to the judge as if he’d just given a performance. “I’d like to submit these as evidence, Your Honor” He slid two plastic bags onto the table, one containing the remains of the egg spinner, and the other containing the hot glue gun. Unnecessarily, Kuroo had written ‘evidence’ on them in his atrocious handwriting.

“Does that say evil pence?” Akaashi asked, squinting at the bags.

  
[“Isn’t that the American politician who fucks horses?”](https://twitter.com/KrangTNelson/status/874095529025822720/photo/1?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw&ref_url=https%3A%2F%2Fbabe.net%2F2017%2F06%2F12%2Fdid-mike-pence-get-his-horse-pregnant-4691) Bokuto asked.

“Mick Pence or something. And he got fucked BY the horse.”

“He both fucked and got fucked by a horse,” Kuroo corrected.

Akaashi banged his spoon against the music stand. When everyone quieted down he hesitated for a moment before saying, “Wait does that mean he’s a verse?”

Everyone then got into a heated debate of whether or not Pence was a top, bottom, or verse before Akaashi banged his spoon again.

“Daishou, do you have any evidence to submit?”

Daishou pointed to the smashed egg seven feet away from them.

“I’d like to submit the crime scene.”

“You guys seriously haven’t cleaned that up?” Akaashi asked. “Aren’t you adults?”

“I laugh in the face of adultery.”

Akaashi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bokuto, that’s not what that means.” He sighed. “Anyways, Tamagoyaki was the adopted son of you Daishou, correct?” Akaashi asked.

“Yes. About a week ago Bokuto gave him to us to take care of.” Daishou responded.

“I think Daishou’s custody should be revoked because he’s defending Tamagoyaki’s _murderer,_ ” Kuroo interjected.

“He’s already dead, Kuroo,” Daishou said, pointing to Tamagoyaki’s insides on the wall.

Kuroo glared at Daishou but didn’t object, “Let’s just get started. I call Bokuto Koutarou to the stand as a witness,” Kuroo said, standing up. Bokuto went and sat next to Akaashi in the barstool.[*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IiBX9d14rM)

“Witness,” Kuroo commanded, “State your name and occupation.” 

“Kuroo you already know my name.”

“We are in a court of law, Bokuto. Personal relations don’t matter anymore. State your name for the record.”

“We don’t even _have_ a court reporter!”

_“Bokuto.”_

Bokuto huffed and crossed his arms. “Bokuto Koutarou. Student. Happy now?”

Kuroo began pacing back and forth in front of the ‘podium’. “So, Bokuto, I’ll keep it simple: give a testimony on what you did prior to and during the murder.”

“Okay, uhhhhhhhhhhhhh... oh, well, I was super bored. I had literally nothing to do all day, so I eventually wandered to the kitchen, saw the egg, and got the idea for the egg spinner. I looked for the glue gun for, like, two hours, made the spinner, then showed it to Kuroo and Daishou.”

“Tamagoyaki.”

“What?”

“Say his name, you coward.”

“Kuroo it was an egg,” Daishou said, from the sidelines.

“Exactly. _Was._ If it weren’t because of Bokuto he’d still be here,” Kuroo wiped his (entirely dry) eyes. “Anyways,” he said, straightening. “Bored you say? Couldn’t you have something better to do with your time?”

“Objection!” Daishou yelled. “The defense has to cross-examine the witness, not the prosecution. Back off, fuckwad.”

_“What?”_

“Objection sustained,” Akaashi said. “Commence with your cross-examination, defense.”

Daishou cleared his throat and stood up. “So, Bokuto, you got the idea when you saw the egg on the counter, right? Could you elaborate?”

Bokuto crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Hmm, let’s see… Oh! Tamagoyaki was sitting on the kitchen counter, and I had my fidget spinner in my hand. When I saw the egg, I looked down at my fidget spinner and saw the image of three eggs spinning around really fast and I thought it was funny.”

“Hold it!” Daishou yelled. “Where on the counter was the egg?”

“Umm… I think it was underneath the cabinet across from the fridge?”

“The one that doesn’t shut all the way?”

“Yes, that one! It was definitely under that one.”

Kuroo scoffed. “Oh, come on, is this really necessary?”

Daishou nodded. “I believe it is. If you recall, that cabinet doesn’t shut because it is filled to the brim with Kuroo’s coffee mugs. Given this information, we can assume that the egg was set down on the counter as someone retrieved a mug from the cabinet for a drink, then left the egg forgotten in the kitchen. This ‘someone’ could only be Kuroo or myself – and since Kuroo’s the only one that drinks from his mugs – we can conclude that Kuroo himself left his child on the counter, unattended for Bokuto to find!” [*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5hx8WTHcie0)

Kuroo gasped. “Objection! I don’t like your tone!”

Akaashi half-heartedly banged his spoon. “Kuroo, you realize that’s not actually how objections work in real trials, right?”

“Um, I’ve played Ace Attorney, Your Honor. I know what I’m doing. Anyways,” Kuroo pointed dramatically at Daishou. “You! To think you could imply something so horrendous about my parenting? You suggest that I _left_ my dear child alone on the counter, and that it’s what ultimately lead to his death? Your audacity disgusts me.”

“Actually, I didn’t say any of that. You just did.”

Kuroo froze for a hot second, processing the past few lines of dialogue, then yelled in anguish. He slammed his hands on the table. “What evidence do you have to support your claims?!”

“Uhh… W-Well, about that…” Daishou stuttered.

Kuroo slammed his hands on the table once again. “Do you hear this, Your Honor? The defense makes wild claims with nothing to back it up! His argument cannot be accepted.”

Akaashi hummed. “You’re right,” he said. He tapped his spoon on the stand. “Defense, do you have any evidence to back up your claims?”

Akaashi’s terrifying glare made Daishou want to turn his body inside out and recede into his skeleton like a hermit crab. “Um, yes! I do have evidence!” He blurted out.

“Then present it to the court.” Akaashi ordered.

Daishou’s eyes flickered around the room. The only two pieces of evidence they “officially” had were the two objects Kuroo put into the ziplock baggies, and neither of those had anything to do with his argument. His eyes then landed on the coffee mug Kuroo was drinking out of before the incident, moved onto the bar from the coffee table when the room was being rearranged.

“My evidence is… this mug.” Daishou walked over to the bar and picked up the coffee mug. This one was shorter and wider than the others, and looked handmade. Tea leaves littered the bottom.

“Uh oh.” Kuroo said. Daishou seemed rather proud of himself.

“Kuroo is the only one that drinks from his mugs,” Daishou began, “and since we concluded that Tamagoyaki was left in the kitchen after retrieving a mug, I can confidently tell you that it was Kuroo that left the egg in the kitchen. If Kuroo had not abandoned our dear child on the counter, it’s possible his death could have been avoided!” Daishou pointed at the prosecution.

Kuroo clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “No! How can this happen?”

Daishou put his hands on his hips. “Well, if you hadn’t been so sloppy with your evidence, the situation might be different right now.”

“I wasn’t going to tamper with the evidence!” Kuroo said. “I may not have a law degree, but I do have morals.”

“So you conveniently didn’t include it when you submitted your evidence? Sounds suspicious to me…”

“Look, I forgot about it, okay?” Kuroo grumbled. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”

“Your Honor, how can we trust the prosecution’s claims? He’s sloppy with his detective work and overlooks evidence that _just so happens_ to hurt his argument.”

Akaashi nodded. “It is a bit suspicious…”

“What?” Kuroo cried.

“You could be trying to cover something up… perhaps you’re trying to hide your own involvement with the murder!”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Your Honor, Kuroo took excessive care of the dear victim this past week, and both my client and I can vouch for that. For Kuroo to unintentionally leave Tamagoyaki on the counter is out of character, and wouldn’t be done unless he meant to.”

“You think it’s more than just forgetfulness?” Akaashi questioned.

Daishou cleared his throat. “Kuroo, do you remember that one substitute we had for our homeroom teacher in the first year of junior high?”

Kuroo immediately went off. “Of course I do! He wore an ugly paisley tie and looked like motherfucking Glass Joe, then he yelled at me for laughing! _Laughing!”_ Kuroo stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait, why do you – oh shit–”

“As you can see, Your Honor,” Daishou cut him off, “Kuroo has an excellent memory. He never forgets anything, so how could he forget Tamagoyaki, his own child, on the counter where something potentially dangerous could happen to him?”

“What are you trying to say?” Akaashi asked.

“I’m saying that Kuroo intentionally left Tamagoyaki in the kitchen!” [*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3R8tkvlAlk)

Kuroo gasped, “How dare you accuse me of intentionally doing what would ultimately lead to my beloved son’s death.”

“That’s exactly what I just did.” Daishou stood with his hands on his hips.

_I’m gonna wipe that smug grin right off his face,_ Kuroo growled. “How about my motive? Hm?”

Daishou made an ‘oh shit’ face and then immediately had an aha moment. “You did it to get to me.”

“Oh please! You didn’t care about Tamagoyaki, you never did. For god’s sake you’re defending his murderer!”

“How do I know _you’re_ not the murderer? What about that?”

“You make a compelling case,” Akaashi agreed.

“Damn right I do! I bet Kuroo did this just to get back at me for some bullshit thing and this whole court thing is a Scam to make me suffer as well!”

“HOW _DARE_ YOU!”

“In fact, I think my client is completely innocent!”

Kuroo gasped again. “That’s ridiculous, we saw him murder him,” he snapped.

“Or did we see him do exactly what you intended for him to do?” Daishou rebutted. “Just admit it, Kuroo, with all your fake crying and staged grief, it's obvious what your true intentions were!”

Kuroo opened his mouth to speak but Akaashi rapped his spoon on the music stand.

“Very compelling argument, defense,” Akaashi said. “It’s very tempting, and as much as I’d like to accept it and move on,” he shot Kuroo a look, “I have to deny it.”

“Aw, what the hell?” Daishou said. “What gives?”

“Your claim might’ve proved that Kuroo got a drink prior to the murder, but it doesn’t mean that Kuroo had anything to do with the murder itself. With the evidence and testimony we have at hand, it still leads to the defendant killing the victim, regardless of whether or not it could have been avoided.”

“Haha.” Kuroo pulled down his lower eyelid and stuck out his tongue.

“Damn it,” Daishou mumbled.

“And since you bring up motive, what about Bokuto’s motive? Hm?” Kuroo said, pleased that things had swung back to his favor.

“He has no motive,” Daishou replied flatly. “That's basically the premise of my entire case.”

“I think it’s quite the opposite!” Kuroo turned dramatically to Bokuto, “Bokuto, tell us again what happened.”[*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IiBX9d14rM)

“Ummmmmm.” Bokuto had to sit and think about it for a solid thirty seconds. “I was bored and dissociating and spinning my fidget spinner, and then I saw the egg sitting on the counter, above the cabinet with all the mugs. So I go the idea to make the egg-spinner.” 

“So you just did the first thing that came to mind?”

“You do realize he has like two ounces of impulse control, right?” Daishou asked. Kuroo ignored him.

“I don’t think this was just the first thing that came to mind at all! I think you _plotted_ this.”

“Why would I do that!?”

“You gave the egg to me and Daishou as a method to get us to stop arguing, correct?” Bokuto nodded. Kuroo continued on, “Would you say it just made us argue more?”

“Yes, oh my god, you guys would not shut u–” Bokuto was cut off by Kuroo pointing right in his face.

“So you _do_ have a motive!”

“What? No!”

“You said that the egg made us argue more, and you made it clear that you didn’t like us arguing, so you staged this ‘accident’ to get rid of it so we wouldn’t argue,” Kuroo was borderline gleeful.

“I would never do that.”

“Nonetheless, you have a motive. _And_ I saw you plotting it. I saw you searching for the glue gun.”

“Yeah to build my egg-spinner.”

“Why did it take you like four hours then?”

“Um, dude, I have ADHD.”

“Still, I’m convinced that you plotted this. But that’s not what matters. Did you or did you not, construct a device that would, ultimately, be used in the death of Tamagoyaki Kuroo-Daishou?” Kuroo was trying to intimidate Bokuto by leaning in next to his face. It wasn’t working because he had to slightly squat to get eye-level with him, resulting in Kuroo looking ridiculous and Bokuto leaning away uncomfortably

“I did?”

“Did you or did you not, spin said device and send Tamagoyaki Kuroo-Daishou into the wall?”

“Yeah I did… But it was an accident!”

“The prosecution rests,” Kuroo turned to Akaashi and bowed dramatically.

Daishou stood up as Kuroo sat down and they exchanged a glare.

“So, you said you were dissociating when you built the egg spinner?”

“Uh yeah?”

“Your Honor, how can my client be accused of murder when he wasn’t even there!? Case closed.”

Akaashi nodded, agreeing. Kuroo looked incredulous.

“Bokuto, did you mean to send Tamagoyaki flying into the wall?”

“Of course not!”

Daishou turned to Kuroo with a smug expression on his face.

“I’d also like to point out, that you can clearly see, that the wall smashed the egg, not Bokuto. Therefore, he can’t be the murderer. Your Honor, this is a minor case of involuntary manslaughter _at worst._ ”

“The wall’s the murder weapon!?” Kuroo cried.

“I thought the egg-spinner was the murder weapon, hm?” Daishou replied.

Kuroo faltered.

“The defense rests.”

“Are we ready for a verdict then?” Akaashi asked.

Kuroo stood up. “I would like to call another witness to the stand.”

“Whomst?” Daishou interjected.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” Kuroo said smugly.

“That’s literally illegal! Akaashi he can’t do that.”

Akaashi held a finger up to silence Daishou. “I’ll allow it. I wanna see how this plays out.”

Kuroo walked up to the witness chair.

“I saw Bokuto Koutarou murder Tamagoyaki Kuroo-Daishou with my own two eyes. It was mid-afternoon on a Saturday–”

“Today’s Sunday.”

“Same thing. Anyways. It was around one o'clock, I was relaxing in the living room, and _he–”_ Kuroo pointed dramatically at Bokuto, “walked in, spinning my child, Tamagoyaki, on a so-called ‘egg-spinner’ and I saw, with my own two eyes,” Kuroo wiped his eyes, “Tamagoyaki die. At the hands of that man!” He once again pointed to Bokuto, turning away and fake sobbing into his elbow.

“Your testimony doesn’t prove that it wasn’t an accident,” Daishou said, standing up.

“I saw him with the glue-gun. It states in the law that if the accused is seen preparing for the crime, then it can’t be called involuntary manslaughter, or, as you so put it, an ‘accident.’”

“Bullshit.”

“Prove it.”

Daishou narrowed his eyes. He could not, in fact, ‘prove it’ as he was literally winging this entire thing.

“Also it says in that if the defense attorney knows their client is guilty, they can’t defend them.”

“You’re literally pulling shit out of your ass!”

“What you’re doing is illegal.”

“You called yourself to the witness stand.”

“Totally legal.”

“Why are you doing this?” Daishou asked, dejected.

“Why are _you?_ Tamagoyaki was _our_ child and you’re defending his murderer!”

“It was an egg, Kuroo.”

“I’m getting a divorce,”

“Fine by me.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“You’re not invited to the funeral,” Kuroo snapped at Daishou.

“How dare you uninvite me from my own fake-son’s funeral.”

“It’s what you deserve.”

Daishou glowered and opened his mouth to say something when there was the sound of spoon against music stand.

“I take it we’re done since you two have drifted so far from the case?” Akaashi seemed even more exhausted than usual.

Kuroo and Daishou exchanged a glare. They simultaneously shrugged.

“This court finds the defendant, Bokuto Koutarou… not guilty.”

“What!?” Kuroo and Daishou yelled.

“You heard me,” Akaashi gave Kuroo a smug look.[*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DaTI2OD3QoE&feature=youtu.be)

Bokuto launched himself into Akaashi’s arms and wrapped him in a life-threatening hug, blubbering into his shoulder. “Akashiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” 

“You can’t do this! He’s obviously guilty!” Kuroo looked like he had just gone into shock.

“Yeah honestly I’m confused too,” Daishou agreed.

“No! I refuse to accept this! I demand a second opinion!” Kuroo said. Akaashi simply shrugged and suggested he call Kenma, so Kuroo angrily called him up on speaker phone and explained the situation.

“So… which side is Kuroo on?” Kenma asked.

“He says Bokuto’s guilty.” Daishou replied.

There was a moment of brief silence before Kenma spoke, “Yeah okay then, not guilty.”

Kuroo practically burst into flames.

“Akaashi, you can’t let this happen!” He cried.

“I just did. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go home, sleep, and hopefully die.” Akaashi grabbed his bag and headed towards the door, Bokuto still attached to him.

The door slammed shut, and there were about seven seconds of dead silence.

Kuroo made a scene of collapsing onto the couch. “Whew. Glad that’s over.”

“Eh?” Daishou looked like he was about to lose it. “Remind me: aren’t YOU the one that made us go through this in the first place?”

Kuroo swung his legs up onto the couch and rested his head behind his hands, looking way too casual considering his remark. “Yeah, but it was only really to mess with you guys.”

Bokuto, who’d just walked back in from the kitchen, immediately dropped his applesauce pouch. “You _what?”_

Daishou’s eye twitched. “So… you’re telling me… that you were just kidding… this _entire_ time?”

“Well, yeah, I–”

Daishou yanked Kuroo up by his shirt collar. “ARE YOU SHITTING ME? YOU CONNIVING SON OF A BITCH!”

“You accused me of murder and took me to trial! I’ve been traumatized for nothing!” Bokuto yelled.

“YOU REJECTED SOME KIND OLD LADY’S MUFFINS OVER THIS!” Daishou screamed into his face.

“A week, Kuroo,” Bokuto said, “You kept this up for a WEEK!”

“Hmm… a guy who puts up a show, acts overly dramatic, and tricks others into thinking that he’s feeling something he’s actually not…” Daishou sneered, there was a dangerous, almost hurt edge to his voice. “You’d make a perfect actor, Kuroo!” He dropped him onto the couch, a bitter expression on his face.

Kuroo and Daishou glowered at each other, then went back to arguing.

As they always did.


	20. How Alcohol Affects The Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao
> 
> \- cameron

"Where the fuck are you going this late at night?" Kuroo asked from his nearly-upside-down position on the couch. Daishou appeared to be head for the door, and being the shit he was, Kuroo had to know where he was going.  

"Okay it's like eleven and it's Saturday so fuck you. Also I'm bored so I'm going out," Daishou snapped. 

"Why don't you just stay here and do something instead of going out with your nonexistent friends?" 

"First of all, I have other friends–"

"Sure you do."

Daishou glared at him, "Second of all, why do you care?"

"Because I'm also bored and you're the alcohol man."

"I'm the what?"

"The alcohol man."

"Don’t call me that. I got you guys beer and shit like one time," Daishou said, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Anyways, just text your creepy-ass cousin again and I'll text Kenma and Akaashi."

Daishou considered this for a moment. He could go out (by himself) and probably wind up doing nothing, only to go home thirty minutes later... or he could get shit-faced with Kuroo and his friends. 

While the second option was extremely unappealing it was better than doing nothing. 

"Fine," Daishou replied, pulling out his phone to text his cousin. 

Forty minutes later Daishou's cousin arrived with the Goods™. Kenma had gotten there a few minutes earlier and Akaashi had arrived shortly afterwards. Both looked equally unenthused.

Akaashi took a seat on the couch next to Bokuto, who draped his arm over Akaashi's shoulders. No one seemed to notice or care. 

Just like last time Daishou piled the alcohol in the center of the rug after Kuroo moved the table (once again in front of Daishou's door).

They sat in awkward silence for the first few minutes like last time, then Bokuto's face suddenly lit up with an idea.  

Daishou's eyes went wide, "Oh god, what is it?"

"I am  _ not _ doing shots of flavored lube again. Not this time fucko," Kuroo said. 

"You're not doing  _ what? _ " Kenma asked. Akaashi just sighed. 

Bokuto grinned, "Let's play truth or dare."

 

"Here's how it works. You can either take the dare or truth, or you take a drink. You can't ask the person who just asked you, but other than that everything else is fair game." Bokuto explained. He had doled out those plastic medicine cups that come with cold medicine to double as shot glasses.

"Can I go first?" Kuroo asked, smirking. 

"Go for it dude."

"Daishou, truth or dare." 

"Oh god here we go. Truth I guess."

"Do you fuck the plants?"

"For fucks sake–no!" Daishou yelled. 

"He's lying," Kuroo grinned, "Bokuto's he's lying he has to take a shot."

"I'm sorry, Daishou, if you lie, you have to take a shot."

"I'M NOT LYING," Daishou looked like he was about to kill Kuroo. 

"Just take the shot," Kenma said. 

"Oh my god fine whatever," Daishou snapped, glaring at Kuroo as he downed the shot of whateverthefuck he was drinking. 

"So you admit you fuck the plants?"

"Fuck you." 

They were a few rounds in and, being the lightweight he was, Daishou was already drunk out of his mind. Other than that nothing really interesting had happened. 

"Okay Daishou, it's your turn," Bokuto was barely drunk as he was indeed shameless and did every dare and truth requested of him. 

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh. Bo-kuto," he said, pronouncing Bokuto's name more along the lines of ‘Bukoto’. 

"Dare."

"Drop your phone off the fire escape."

Bokuto stood up, walked towards the mound of alcohol, and then walked past it towards the fire escape. 

“Oh my god, he’s actually going to do it,” Kuroo said.

"Bokuto,  _ no.” _ Akaashi sprang off the floor as Bokuto unlatched and opened the window. He attempted to restrain him from literally throwing his actual phone out the four-story window, but he fought back with incredible force.

“NO Akaashi, I’m NOT drinking!”

“Bokuto, seriously–” Akaashi struggled to detain Bokuto, while the others just watched and did absolutely nothing about the situation.

“This is my PRIDE we’re dealing with here, Akaashi!” Amidst the struggling, Bokuto managed to toss his phone through the open window. The pair froze in place and heard a distance thudding noise.

Akaashi untangled himself from Bokuto and turned around. He looked resigned. 

"Why did you make him do that?" he asked Daishou. 

"I didn't think he'd actual-ly do it!" Daishou hiccupped.  

"He's literally done every dare so far and one of them was to lick Kuroo's disgusting feet."

"Hey!" Kuroo protested. 

Bokuto was staring at his phone which laid shattered on the concrete beneath their apartment, "I, uh, think I need a new phone."

"No shit," Kuroo snorted. 

"Daishou your bitch jar minimum has doubled to pay for Bokuto's new phone," Akaashi said. 

"How do you even know about the bitch jar minimum?"

"Because the rules are literally taped to the table over there," Akaashi replied, pointing to the three notebook sheets taped to the table by the hallway. 

"Great."

Kuroo was busy counting on his fingers trying to total up the minimum. 

"Kuroo, it's just five hundred times two."

"Five hundred and two?"

"Holy fuck how drunk are you?" Bokuto asked. "You're usually good at math." 

Kenma finally decided to contribute to the conversation, "Kuroo loses all his intellectual ability when he's drunk."

"Holy shit finally a way to get him to shut the fuck up," Daishou said.

“Either that or he starts rambling about genetics or something for an hour.”

"Kenma I do nOT." 

"One time while you were drunk you asked me why plants were green."

"Well? Why are they?"

Kenma ignored him. “He hasn’t even had that much to drink. It could be much worse.”

"Oh my god," Daishou was wheezing. 

"Anyways," Bokuto had finished mourning his phone, "it's Kuroo's turn."

"Kenma."

Had anybody asked Kenma frequently, he probably would've been the most drunk out all them, as he was a very private person, and didn't like doing most things. 

"Fuck. Dare, I guess." Though Kenma was easily grossed out he would much rather lick the floor than have people prying into his personal life. 

Kuroo grinned, stood up, and walked to his room. He came back holding his contact case. 

"Drink this."

"What is it?" Kenma made a face.  

"It's my old contact solution."

"I don't wanna drink your dirty eye juice," Kenma said, pouring himself a shot. 

Everyone quickly discovered Kenma was the exact opposite of Bokuto – he would barely do anything asked of him. Yet, despite their efforts, they could not get him visibly drunk. 

"It's no use," Kuroo said, "Kenma can probably drink us all under the table."

"I'd rather drink milk to be honest. This stuff is disgusting."

"Milk is disgusting." 

"You're disgusting,” Kenma shot back. Kuroo looked deeply and personally offended. 

After Kenma took another couple shots, he finally met his breaking point. He started rambling on and crying about bees for about seven minutes.

"We're all gonna die because of it," Kenma was sobbing. "We need to save the bees."

"I regret getting him drunk," Daishou said. 

"Mmmy turn," Bokuto slurred, "Daishou."

"Truth."

"Whose Nicolas Cage bead picture is it?"

"Excuse me?"

Bokuto pointed adamantly towards the hallway where the melted beads of Nicolas Cage's face hung on the wall, "Whose is it!?"

Daishou sighed, "Kuroo's." 

"SO YOU FUCKING ADMIT IT?" Kuroo yelled. 

"Yeah whatever you can have it back."

Kuroo frowned a bit, "Nah, I'll just leave it where it is."

Daishou stared at him with a miserable look on his face. He looked like something deep inside him was broken, and would never be fixed. He looked like he had lost something. 

"Oh. Okay," he said quietly.

They played a few more rounds, and Kuroo ended up drinking the most out of all of them. Almost every single time someone asked him a truth question he ended up drinking. He was smiling, but he seemed sad. 

"Kuroo's turn," Akaashi said. 

_ "Heh," _ he said, and Daishou threw a plastic cup at him. "Akaashi."

Akaashi knew very well that Kuroo was a nosy little shit and asked the worst truths. "Dare," he said.

"Kiss Bokuto."

Akaashi sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He really should've seen this coming. He hated drinking. He did not, however, hate Bokuto. 

Akaashi grabbed Bokuto's face in his hands and kissed him.

"Happy?" he asked Kuroo, not even trying to hide the deep red blossoming on his face. 

"I–um… okay," Bokuto kept stuttering out incoherent phrases. "What just–thanks?"

They played another round, all the while Akaashi waited patiently. 

"Kuroo," he said when it was finally his turn. 

"Dare."

"It's  _ your _ turn to kiss someone. Kiss Kenma."

Kuroo's eyes went wide. He visibly hesitated – he thought about drinking, but didn't want to give Akaashi the satisfaction. “Are you okay with that, Kenma?”

Kenma was barely invested in the group activity anymore as he was still very upset about the bees, but turned at the sound of his name. “Huh?”

Kuroo leaned over and kissed Kenma on the forehead. 

“There.”

Kenma brought his hand up to his forehead. “Huh?” He repeated.

Daishou shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

Kuroo settled back down and glared at Akaashi. 

It quickly became a trend. If anyone picked dare they knew what was coming to them.

“Bokuto, truth or d-dare.” Daishou asked when it was his turn.

“Dare!”

Akaashi facepalmed.

“B-Bokuto,” Daishou hiccupped, “kiss Kuroo.”

“No!” Kuroo protested. “He and Akaashi are dating!”

“I don’t care.” Akaashi said.

“Really?” Bokuto asked.

“Yeah, I trust you.”

“A’IGHT.” Bokuto jumped up, and before anyone could say anything, grabbed Kuroo’s face and kissed him on the mouth. Kuroo sat there bug-eyed for the 1.75 seconds (yes, Akaashi was counting) Bokuto was latched to him and remained so even after the kiss was over. 

“Ah! Dude! Warn me next time!”

“Ahahaha, sorry!” Bokuto laughed and plopped back down on the couch. He scanned the room (of four other people) for someone who hadn’t kissed anyone yet. “KenMA!” He yelled.

Kenma jumped a bit in his seat. He’d seemed to have given up on the bees and was just silently watching everyone else, but no one could tell if he was actually paying attention. “What?”

“Kiss someone. I don’t care who, just do it now!” Bokuto didn’t even give him a choice on the matter. Kenma didn’t even seem to notice, though, as he was looking from person to person, trying to make his decision. Kuroo? No, plus he’d already been kissed by him. Daishou? No way in hell. Bokuto? No thanks. Akaashi?

Well, it was the best option he had.

“Akaashi,” Kenma commanded. “Come here.”

Akaashi sighed and stood up, already having accepted his fate. He kneeled down next to Kenma and let him cup his face and kiss him.

Kenma pulled away and dropped his hands. “Your lips are soft.” He commented.

“Eh?” Akaashi’s alcohol-flushed face darkened a bit in color, caught off guard. “Oh, um, thank you.” He stood up and was about to walk back to the couch when Kenma called his name again.

“Akaashi.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss Kuroo.” Kenma followed in Bokuto’s footsteps and didn’t even ask Akaashi truth or dare.

Akaashi couldn’t even find it in himself to sigh again.

Kuroo stood up with his trademark smirk and held out his hand. “Allow me.”

“Uhh…” Akaashi, confused as can be, hesitantly gave his hand to Kuroo.

Who proceeded to yank him close, then full-on dipped and kissed him.

Daishou facepalmed and Bokuto immediately shrieked and pulled Akaashi away from him, who seemed to be in a state beyond even shock.

Kuroo laughed and sat back down, making a drunk mental note to apologize for that later.

Then it was Akaashi's turn again. He looked over at Daishou, who’d been watching the entire spectacle successfully without getting himself involved. That needed to change. If you traced it back far enough, it was technically Daishou’s fault that this was happening, since he’s the one who got the alcohol. Bitterness aside, they’d barely interacted the entire game and Akaashi was a bit curious about him.

"Daishou," he said, “Truth or dare.”

"Uh, dare," it took him a moment but he swiftly realized his mistake, "Shit no, fUck. Truth."

"Fuck, I don't know." Drinking only gave Akaashi a headache and he had a very minor one, which was currently interfering with his ability to think. "Kiss Kuroo."

Kenma half-laughed-half-hiccuped. "Uh oh, that'd be weird since they used to date," he said, apparently in some tired, alcohol-induced daze. 

"Yeah tr–THEY WHAT?" Bokuto stood up and almost fell over. 

Akaashi Blinked™. He really should've guessed that.

“So that’s why they argue all the time!” Bokuto mused aloud.

"Kenma!" Kuroo looked horrified. 

"Oh, sorry. I forgot."

Daishou was staring at the ground. He looked like he was about to come unglued.

"Okay, well, uh, I can give you another dare?" Akaashi asked. He knew well enough not to pry and start any  _ incidents _ while everyone (i.e. Kuroo, Kenma, and Daishou) was drunk and emotional.

“No I think I’m done playing,” Daishou replied, barely restrained tears burning in his eyes.

Suddenly, it was like a weight settled down on the apartment. The alcohol-scented air was too thick to get words out.

“...You sure?” Akaashi asked. He could tell Daishou was about to do something stupid and wanted to distract him before it happened. 

“Wait, what happened?” Bokuto asked.

_ “Bokuto,”  _ Akaashi warned.

Daishou stood up, a bit wobbly, “You know it’s funny, what happened,” he snarled.

“Daishou, stop.” Kenma demanded.

"Oh,  _ what? _ You don’t want everyone to know? Well it’s too late, cuz you just  _ had _ to bring it up, didn’t you?”

“Daishou, stop,” Kenma repeated, “You’re drunk.”

_ “I’m _ drunk? You’re the one blurting out this crap when I tried so hard to hide it!”

“God, can’t you just let it go!?” Kenma yelled.

His words echoed like thunder – and like the rain, silence fell.

Daishou started shaking with the horrible realization that no, he couldn’t just let it go. He never could.

After a moment of silence, Bokuto softly spoke, “....Just what happened between you?”

Daishou snapped his head back up, face red from the alcohol, the anger, the withheld tears. “Oh not much, we were childhood friends, dated for a while when we were teenagers, then he left me for pudding-head over there. You get the gist," Daishou was seething, but something in his eyes looked nostalgic and sad. He seemed on the brink of something the entire night and now pieces of him were falling apart. The past was coming unraveled, and so was Daishou. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need some water."

Kenma's mood shifted immediately and everyone could see it. His face darkened with an unidentifiable emotion. It looked like guilt. He stood up without saying anything and started walking quickly towards the bathroom. 

"Kenma wait," Kuroo started following him but Kenma started  _ running. _ His breathing was laboured and he looked like he was about to collapse. Somehow he got to the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it.

Kuroo whirled on Daishou, "What the fuck was that about?"

Daishou attempted to calmly drink his water but his hands were shaking so badly he spilled it on the floor, "It's what happened."

"That is not what fucking happened."

"Then why the fuck did you leave!" Daishou turned and threw the red plastic cup at the wall. The soft clattering noise didn’t match the tone of the situation. Water spilled onto the floor. Daishou wanted to  _ break  _ something. He wanted to scream and shout until Kuroo felt the pain he felt. He wanted to punch something until everything was broken. He wanted to tear this unfair universe to shreds. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted, but he couldn’t. "Why, Tetsurou? Why?" he finally said, practically screaming. He was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, hands gripping his hair tight. His eyes flitted back and forth nervously and he was mumbling incoherent nonsense under his breath. 

Bokuto and Akaashi got up from the couch and went into Bokuto's room. 

"I... I don't know," Kuroo was so drunk he could barely process the tears streaming down his face. 

"You don't know? You don't  _ know? _ Well neither do I and it's been driving me fucking crazy for  _ years _ so maybe come back to me when you have some fucking answers," Daishou continued to pace about the kitchen and he continued mumbling things Kuroo couldn't hear. 

"Fuck!" Daishou yelled, collapsing onto the floor and covering his ears with his hands. He looked like he was seconds away from screaming. 

Kuroo had seen him like this before. He had seen it when Daishou's mind overtook him. He knew when Daishou was starting to lose control. He knew when Daishou's actions were to be decided by his paranoia and not his conscience. 

_ "You think too much," _ he would always tease at Daishou when they were children. And he did think too much. He thought and thought and thought until all his thoughts were screaming and he couldn't think anymore. That was when Daishou became pure impulse. Impulse rooted in paranoid thoughts. 

Kuroo put his anger aside for now, "Suguru, you need to calm down."

"Why? Why did you do it?" he looked broken and sad and although Kuroo had let their past die he felt it rear its head. 

"I don't know. I'll never know. It's dead, Suguru. Let it be dead."

"Is it really?"

Kuroo was so taken aback by the question he couldn't answer. Kuroo had never thought about it, he knew it was dead because he could barely feel it anymore. Occasionally, he remembered, but like any amputated limb, there were phantom pains. Ghosts of something gone. Kuroo was sure it was dead. He had never questioned, never doubted, because he was the one that killed it. He was the one who buried it. 

Yet, in that moment he wondered. He was so sure that it was gone, but for one second he thought:  _ was it really?  _ For one moment, he questioned, he doubted, he challenged. For one uneasy moment, he was unsure. 

Kuroo couldn’t speak. He didn't need to, he could see Daishou start to calm down. 

Daishou looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to answer. 

Kuroo couldn't answer, he had no answers for Daishou. 

Daishou sighed, wiped the tears from his face, and went silently to his room. 

 

Kenma's breath was hissing quickly between his clenched teeth. He was breathing fast but his lungs were devoid of air. He felt dizzy. He could hear Kuroo and Daishou arguing through the bathroom door. He breathed faster. 

He was lying face down on the bathroom floor. His lungs weren't getting any air, his hands and feet felt cold and dead. Kenma was banging his head against the floor trying to rid his brain of the anxiety that lived there.

_ Calm down. Calm down. _ He repeated that thought like a mantra, to block out all his other thoughts. Slowly, slowly he started to. 

His breathing slowed to normal, his numb hands started to feel again, his racing heart stopped feeling like it was being ripped out of his chest, and he started to feel better. His head hurt, both from lack of air and the fact that for five minutes he'd been hitting it on the floor, but he felt better.

And then he started thinking.  

He thought back to his childhood, back when he didn't talk. Why didn't he talk? That seemed to be the question everyone was asking; except for Kenma. Kenma didn't care if he talked or not. He felt more comfortable not talking. Talking in certain situations made him incredibly anxious. So anxious it paralyzed him. 

Everyone asked him why he didn't talk. Everyone had expectations of him. Everyone tried to understand him, like he was a case study. Everyone wanted him to  _ talk. _

No one understood. 

Then there was Kuroo. Who at least  _ tried _ to understand. Instead of forcing Kenma into his ideals, he tried to change his own. While he still didn't understand, he tried nonetheless.

They met Daishou. Daishou tried to understand, too. They both tried so hard and Kenma loved them for it. 

Daishou and Kuroo, they made him happy. They made each other happy. There was a time everyone was happy and it seemed like they always would be. Kenma was glad to be a part of all that happiness. 

Then it all fell apart, and Daishou blamed Kenma, and, honestly, Kenma blamed himself too. He didn't know how it was his fault. He just knew it was.

_ "Oh not much, we were childhood friends, dated for a while when we were teenagers, then he left me for pudding-head over there. You get the gist." _

Kenma felt like a monster, like he had destroyed something beautiful. Worst of all, he felt like everyone hated him for it. He wouldn't have blamed them if they did. 

When you feel like everyone hates you, you start to hate yourself. 

Kenma could ignore it most of the time, but in certain situations all that pain came to the surface. In certain situations, he remembered himself, remembered his fear. In certain situations, his silence came back.

There were thousands of reasons why Kenma didn't like to talk. Thousands of reasons he never made eye contact. Thousands of reasons why he had locked himself in this bathroom. 

There were thousands of reasons why he was the way he was, and no one understood a single one. 

Kenma peeled himself off of the floor and ran his hands under freezing cold water, trying to jolt himself back to reality. It wasn't working. He turned the water off.

He sat down on the floor and thought for a few more minutes. 

No one seemed to understand Kenma. Kenma didn't even understand himself. 

Kenma was a mystery even to himself. An enigma that couldn't be solved. 

He didn't mind, though. As long as he had something to distract himself, it wasn't a problem. 

That's what Kenma's life revolved around: distraction. As long as he kept his mind busy, he didn't have to think about the things that haunted him. 

God, there were a lot of ghosts hounding him, and occasionally one caught up, but Kenma was good at running from his problems. 

So he kept running, and hoped the fatigue wouldn't set in. 

There was a soft knock at the door. 

"Kenma, I really don't want to bother you, but I am seconds from throwing up. You can go in my room, I won't go in," Kuroo's speech was disastrously slurred. Kenma unlocked the door and opened, it. He didn't try to talk to Kuroo, he knew he wouldn't be able to. Instead he walked into Kuroo's room and collapsed onto the bed.

Kenma was tired. Tired of his brain, tired of not understanding. Tired of running. 

Kenma laid in Kuroo's bed and gazed up at the ceiling. He pretended he was staring at the stars. Kenma related to stars, they had died long ago but everyone could still see them. If they kept moving, they could pretend they weren't already dead. 

Stars, they were mysteries. Just like Kenma.

The whole universe was made of mysteries.

 

Kuroo was throwing up in a toilet and he'd never felt more miserable. 

Years ago he had ruined whatever he'd had with Daishou and he couldn't stop thinking about it. Why  _ had _ he left Daishou? He doubted he would ever know. 

Kuroo avoided his problems. He laughed his troubles away. He buried that shit down deep so it could be repressed and turned into unhealthy behaviors. He didn't know why he had left Daishou, why he had broken Daishou like that. He was sure it was buried somewhere inside him, but he didn't want to dig that deep. Kuroo prefered to forget about it. 

But then he had to be roommates with Daishou fucking Suguru of all people and was forced to remember everything. Forced to remember his feelings, his fears.

_ "Is it really?" _

Was it really dead?

_ I don't know, Daishou. I don't know. _

It really felt like it was dead. It really did. Kuroo was positive he'd killed it all those years ago. 

Now he wasn't so sure. 

Kuroo sighed and slumped against the toilet. If the pain from him and Daishou's relationship wasn't dead, the rest of it sure was. 

Kuroo was tired. He picked himself up off the floor and walked out into the living room. He fell face first into the couch and grabbed the Star Wars blanket off the back of it.

He was cold, he was alone, he was tired. 

He was so drunk that for the first time in years he got a decent night of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone: kuroo, truth or dare  
> kuroo: truth  
> someone: [asks a personal question]  
> kuroo: starts fucking chugging


	21. 20 Facts About The Past That Will Blow Your Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo we're back at it again w more angst 
> 
> pleas let us know what u think we Live for feedback/comments 
> 
> -esmae

Kenma was fine up until middle school.

Fine might be an overstatement, but for the most part, he was okay.

Throughout the duration of grade school, Kenma didn't stand out, wasn't noticed. He didn't have friends, and he didn't want them. When the certain times of the day rolled around that having friends was a necessity, Kenma successfully got by without them. At lunch, he would stay in the teacher's room, eat, and do homework. During recess, he would go over to the corner of the playground, where no one was, and watch the ants on the small anthill they had built against the chain link fence until the bell rang.

Kenma had his life at school down to a system so that no one would bother him. Besides, it was grade school. Everyone was too absorbed in their own world to be bothered with the kid who never spoke a word. No one noticed Kenma, and he preferred it that way.

Kenma was fine without friends.

But of course, not everyone seemed to think so.

His teachers were concerned, and, by extent, his parents were as well. So one day, they decided to arrange a friendship for Kenma.

They did not see the massive holes in their plan. For one, Kenma never talked to anyone outside his immediate family, and secondly, Kenma was actually _unwilling_ to even attempt to make friends. He went along with it anyways, as he did with most things.

Thus, he met Kuroo.

Kuroo was the neighbors' kid. They invited the neighbors over, as they were good friends of Kenma's parents.

After Kenma's mom had hurried him out to the backyard, Kenma sat down on the cement steps, pulled out his DS, and started playing his most recent game; adamantly ignoring Kuroo.

Kuroo however, did not take the hint.

"Do you wanna play volleyball?" he asked after about three minutes of awkward silence. He had a volleyball tucked under his arm, which Kenma thought was weird.

A bolt of anxiety went through Kenma. This was a situation in which he was expected to talk. He felt his heart rate pick up and struggled to maintain his grip on his DS. His thoughts began to race with every outcome that could happen if he did so. Part of him tried to force some words out, but part of him stayed stubbornly silent.

After a few moments of internal struggling, Kenma managed to shake his head no.

"Do you know how to play?" Kuroo questioned after managing to interpret the tiny movement Kenma had made with his head as a 'no.' Kenma paused, and shook his head again.

Kuroo perked up. "I'll teach you! Please?"

Kenma wanted to say no, but he also wanted to say yes. So far Kuroo hadn't bothered him about not speaking, and he seemed nice enough. Besides, Kenma was curious.

So he nodded.

Kuroo grinned a shit-eating grin that Kenma would become all too familiar with over the following years.

Kuroo then seemed to notice that Kenma didn't have a volleyball net in his backyard. Kenma watched him as he thought about what to do. He then decided that Kenma would help him practice by tossing for him. He demonstrated how to set, and then had Kenma practice it a few times.

They set up a system, Kenma would toss it to Kuroo, and Kuroo would spike it.

Kenma had to admit, it was more fun than staring at an anthill, and the best part about it was that Kenma didn't have to talk during the process. Kuroo would say something occasionally but didn't seem to expect an answer.

They practiced for most of the night, and stopped when Kenma got tired and sat down on the steps once more. Kuroo sat down next to him and started talking about school.

School was one of Kenma's least favorite subjects but he listened anyways, zoning out whenever a cutscene came up in his game.

He learned that Kuroo was a year older than him, meaning he was nine, and wanted to play volleyball in middle school. Kuroo said a lot of other things but most of it was just philosophical nonsense. Kenma listened anyways.  

Finally their parents called them inside.

"See you tomorrow," Kuroo called out to Kenma as he left.

 _What?_ Kenma wondered.

Kuroo appeared again the next afternoon holding a volleyball, and somehow, Kenma had obtained a friend.

A year passed and in that time Kenma slowly but surely became comfortable around Kuroo. He started talking around him gradually in quips and phrases, cracking jokes when he wasn’t paying too much attention to his anxiety. Kuroo beamed at him the first time he said a word to him other than ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“Don’t let this get to your already inflated ego,” Kenma snapped upon seeing the look on his face. Kuroo just grinned wider.

There came a day where Kuroo was spiking the volleyball off of the tall fence in Kenma’s backyard, while Kenma drew in the dirt with a stick – just like usual. Then, the sound of a car disrupted their daily afternoon routine. It seemed to stop on their street, and after a moment the engine turned off. Kuroo and Kenma looked up from what they were doing.

“Who would that be?” Kuroo asked. Kenma just shrugged in response. Kuroo and Kenma lived on the same street, with one house between theirs that belonged to two kind young women that lived there together. The car parked in front of their house, and it did not belong to either of the women.

A person in professional looking clothing exited the driver side door, then popped open the trunk and retrieved a garbage bag and a cardboard box. They then opened the back door and out came a scrawny child that looked to be about their age.

The child took the person’s hand and they walked up to the gate of the front yard.  

“Who’s that?”

“How would I know?”

“I dunno. They’re your neighbors, too.” Kuroo stood up, volleyball tucked under his arm, and crept around to the front of Kenma’s house to get a closer look. They poked their heads around the corner of the house and watched the strangers approach the front door and ring the doorbell. Moments later, the door opened and the two women happily greeted their guests.

“Do you think they’re family?” Kuroo asked.

Kenma shook his head. “No, look, it looks like they’re introducing themselves.” He turned back towards the house and saw one of the women bending down to eye-level with the child, speaking to him with a gentle expression. He still clung to the person in his hand, seeming unsure. Kenma gestured towards them. “And look, that person’s holding a box and stuff. Maybe he’s staying or something.”

“Ah, Kenma, observant as ever!” Kuroo grinned.

They watched as the pair finally entered the house, kicked off their shoes, and closed the door.

They emerged from their hiding spot.

“Do you think they’re new neighbors?” Kuroo asked.

Kenma shrugged and started to walk to the backyard. Kuroo followed with a mischievous smirk on his face.

Kenma squinted knowingly at him. “What’re you gonna do?”

Kuroo just grinned, turned around, and threw his volleyball into the backyard next to them.

Kenma glared at Kuroo, knowing full well that this meant he had to meet new people, which he hated with a passion.

Kuroo marched triumphantly up to the front door, Kenma trailing begrudgingly behind him.

Kenma shot him a look. Kuroo just grinned and knocked on the door.

The woman who opened the door had a kindly expression on her face.

“Oh hello, Kuroo-kun. Did you need anything?”

“Hi Ueno-san. I’m so sorry to bother you, but Kenma here accidentally spiked the volleyball into your backyard. I was wondering if we could go get it,” Kuroo grinned politely and Kenma just glared at him again. He was sickeningly polite for a ten year-old.

“Of course! In fact, I bet Suguru would like to play with you while I take care of some paperwork. Suguru!” she called. Just a moment later the mysterious kid appeared in the doorway before them. “Would you like to play volleyball with the neighbors?” Ueno asked him. He looked uncomfortable. Kenma felt a wince of pain for him, as he too was being forced into this awkward social situation because of Kuroo.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Kuroo chimed. Suguru shifted his gaze to him, squinting as though studying him.

Suguru then shrugged. “Okay.”

“Stay next door, okay?”  Ueno-san said.

“Okay.”

They walked into the backyard and retrieved their volleyball, then headed over towards Kenma’s house.

“There’s no volleyball net here,” Kuroo stated upon arriving at Kenma’s backyard, “But sometimes we walk down the street to the park, cuz there’s a net down there. We usually just stay here though, cuz Kenma doesn’t wanna walk.” Kuroo rambled on. Kenma started zoning out on a beetly* crawling along the top of the fence.

“Do you know how to play?” Kuroo asked.

“Kind of,” Suguru replied.

“Alright!

So they started to play. Kuroo and Suguru got along pretty well, and Kenma said nothing. He just observed, watching their interactions as he set for them. He decided he liked Suguru well enough. He seemed reserved, but Kuroo somehow had a way of getting him to talk, as he did with everyone.

After a bit of playing, Kuroo suggested they take a break. Kenma led them inside the house and to the kitchen, and Kuroo helped himself to a cup of water.

“Do you want a cup, Suguru?” Kuroo asked.

“Eh?” Suguru looked taken aback. “O-Oh, yes please, thank you.”

Kuroo paused with his hand in the cabinet and looked back at him. “Hm? Something wrong?”

“Oh, just most kids don’t call me that.”

“What do they call you?”

“Daishou.”

“Is that your family name?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you rather us call you that?”

“Um… yeah, I think so.”

“Alright,” Kuroo finished filling up the cup with water. “Here you go, Daishou.”

“Thanks,” he replied. He took the cup and gulped down the contents along with the other boys. Kuroo took it upon himself to fill up the empty conversation with light chatter about volleyball.

“Five in the _morning?!”_ Daishou exclaimed. “You’re lying!”

“I’m not!” Kuroo replied.

“You’re totally lying.”

“Kenma, isn’t it true that I get up at five and go running?” Kuroo turned to Kenma, who nodded in response. “Ha! Told you.”

“Whatever, you’re crazy.” Daishou stuck his tongue out at him. He then looked back at Kenma and observed him.

“Why doesn’t she talk?” Daishou finally asked. Kenma winced at the words, for many different reasons.

“Uhhh,” Kuroo glanced nervously at Kenma. Kenma nodded. “Actually, Kenma’s a boy. And he only talks to people he’s really close to, like family and close friends.”

“He looks like a girl.” Daishou said.

“Well just because he might look like a girl doesn’t mean he is!” Kuroo retorted. “Plus, Kenma is a boy’s name!”

“Oh, okay. That makes sense. Sorry I called you a girl, Kenma.” Daishou replied.

Kenma smiled inwardly. He hoped he and Kuroo would be friends with Daishou.

And they were. After a few months Kenma started talking around Daishou, too.

In the beginning, there was lots of laughter. After Kenma got more comfortable around Daishou, he felt as though he'd never laughed more in his life.   

They were young. They were naive to what was to come. They were happy, and it seemed like they always would be. It seemed like they would be friends forever. Like the times, the joy, and even the pain that they shared together would never end.

Of course they weren't okay. Kenma knew he certainly wasn't, but he was blinded by his own shit to see what was going on around him. He was blinded by his own darkness, and blinded by Kuroo and Daishou's brightness. He was dumb and he was naive to think that things were okay.

But they pretended. They pretended weren't damaged. Each of them thought they were the only one with troubles, each of them knew better than to hide it, but did anyways.

Kenma could look back and realize this now. He only wished he could go back and change it.

 

It was the last week of school of Kenma's second year, and things were starting to change.  

Kenma and Kuroo were sitting on Kenma's bedroom floor, Kenma quietly drawing. The feeling that comes with the last week of school was instilled in the very air. Kenma could practically feel himself inhaling the false nostalgia and shattered expectations.

Kuroo was reading his book, both of them in a comfortable silence. Yet there was something insidious crawling behind Kenma's skin. That last week of school felt like the beginning of an end.

"I kissed Daishou." Kuroo suddenly blurted out, just as surprised that he said it as Kenma was.

"Oh," was all Kenma said in response. They were silent for a few more moments. "How do you feel about that?" Kenma asked finally.

"I don't know," Kuroo put down his book and held his head in his hands, obviously somewhat distressed. "Would it bother you?"

"I couldn't care less. But I'd be happy for you."

"Did you know?"

"Kind of. Did you?"

"No," Kuroo admitted. "What should I do?"

"Whatever you want to."

They went back to sitting in silence. Even though they had different things on their minds, there was a sort of solidarity in the calm quiet.

After a while, Kuroo stood up. Kemna gave him a puzzled look.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," he said. It was almost posed like a question.

The silence descended again. Kuroo didn't move.

"Everything's gonna be fine," Kenma reassured.

Kuroo only shrugged in response. He then left Kenma's room, taking the comfortable silence with him.

The next day, Kuroo and Daishou held hands on the way to and from school. Kenma pretended not to notice.

Things were different after that, but only slightly, and they weren't bad either.

Kenma knew Kuroo and Daishou well. He knew they made each other happy, he knew how they felt about it each other. It was so glaringly obvious if you only looked.

Kenma remembered that summer well. It stuck out in his mind as the last summer everything was good.  

Kuroo and Daishou were happy, and Kenma was happy by extent. It still seemed like the world was theirs. It still seemed like things would always be good.

It seemed. But by the end of summer the picture started to shift.

Suddenly, for some reason unknown to Kenma, Kuroo started avoiding Daishou. He wouldn't invite him to hang out with him and Kenma, he wouldn't text him, he wouldn't go with Kenma when he went to Daishou's house. He avoided any and all contact with him.

Kenma thought it was another one of Kuroo's sudden, brief breakdowns. He thought it would be over within the week.

It wasn't until it started going on a month that he started getting seriously concerned.

Daishou texted him frantically. _"Why is he ignoring me? Did I do something?"_ he would ask constantly. _"I don't know Daishou. I don't know.”_ It wasn’t long before Daishou became suspiciously quiet as well.

It was three weeks into the new school year when Kuroo showed up sobbing at Kenma's door. Kenma knew what happened. He didn't need to ask.

They went into Kenma's room and Kuroo rocked back and forth on the floor. Clutching his hair so hard that it seemed he was going to pull it from his skull.

"What have I done? What the fuck is wrong with me?" Kuroo repeated over and over again, punching the floor until his hand started showing a dark blue bruise. _"It's all my fault it's all my fault it's all my fault,"_ he started murmuring, immeasurable pain behind his eyes.

Kenma could only watch. He didn't offer any comfort, he didn't know what to do. So he sat there, and watched his and Kuroo's lives fall apart. Somewhere, he knew Daishou's was doing the same.

Just like that, Daishou was wrenched from their lives. One day, he was there, in a sense, and the next, he was gone. Kuroo looked dead behind the eyes for the following months.

Kenma knew Kuroo well, and he knew despite Kuroo's acts, that he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Daishou. He also knew nothing would ever fix whatever Kuroo had done.

So they were stuck like that, back to pretending things were okay. Even though they both knew they weren't. They weren't naive anymore. Things would change and people would leave and you'd never see them again. When those people left they would leave behind good memories, which would dig in and hurt because those memories, those sensations, would never be felt again.

Kenma was left with the realization that he wasn't, in fact, okay. He was left with the realization that one of his only friends had been ripped from his life. He was left with the realization that things end.

Kuroo and Daishou went on to separate high schools. Kenma was left behind in junior high; left behind and left with the realization that things, no matter how good, always fall apart.

 

 

 

* * *

 *

 

\- cameron


	22. Do You Still Have A Chance With Your Ex?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy crisis everyone! sorry this is just an angsty half chap but we'll hopefully (very hopefully) be back with a real chapter soon! sorry for the wait :V i hope you guys are stickin with us because this fic is a Rollercoaster i want y'all to experience. 
> 
> anyways merry chrysler heres a chapter! (sort of)
> 
> -esmae

Kuroo woke up with a hangover, the raw reminder of what had transpired the night before, and an ache he thought he'd long forgotten. 

From his position on the couch he could see the old hole in the wall. The hole had been plastered over, healed, it wasn't noticed unless looked for. Kuroo knew that somewhere inside him was a hole. It had been buried in memories, covered in plaster made of years. Kuroo knew that there was a hole. He didn't want to look for it. 

Looking usually wound up in things being found. Kuroo didn't want to find what he had hidden. 

Forcing his way through the dull headache, he sat up on the couch. Immediately he saw Daishou in the kitchen and dropped back down onto the coach with a silent groan. Everything from last night was hazy, but he remembered well enough. The sight of Daishou crying was stuck in his mind like a painful thorn. 

_ "Is it really?" _

He still didn't know. 

He told himself it was. 

 

When Kenma's eyes snapped open it took him a moment to process where he was. 

He realized he was in Kuroo's room, closed his eyes, and let the night come back to him in bits and pieces. 

_ God, _ why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut? Why did he even say anything?

_ Fucking alcohol. _ He thought. 

Kenma pulled out his phone to check the time. 11:17. He turned his phone off, then on second thought punched in his passcode and stared at his background. 

It was a photo of him, Kuroo, and Daishou after a junior high volleyball match. They were laughing for a reason forgotten to Kenma.

Kenma's mom had taken the photo. He found it in a shoebox in a closet two years after Daishou had left their lives. 

He felt kind of embarrassed for making it his background, but ever since Daishou became a permanent recurrence in their lives, he started to think about it more.

The photo made him nostalgic. It made him sad. It made him hopeful. 

If he had been that happy once, he could be that happy again. Kenma had forgiven Daishou, he'd forgiven Kuroo. Now he just needed to forgive himself. 

He stared at the old photo – the bright volleyball jerseys faded with age, the smiles that had disappeared with time. He thought, maybe, just maybe, it could be like that again. 

 

Bokuto anxiously paced his room. He'd been doing so for about thirty minutes. Before that he'd been studying, and before that he'd been fidgeting, and before that he'd been asleep. 

Now, he paced. He was hungry, hungover, and bored, but he couldn't go outside of his room. Not without someone to ease the awkwardness. 

He paced back and forth muttering his options to himself. Climb out the window? They were four stories up. 

"What are you doing?" Akaashi said suddenly from the bed. He'd woken up thirty seconds before and watched Bokuto pace, who was seemingly unaware of his existence. 

Bokuto jolted at the noise and looked at him as though he'd grown a second head. 

"Akaashi!" He said loudly. "Thank god you're up! Now I can get something to eat."

"Uh. I'm not going out there."

"Well I can't go out alone! What else are we supposed to do?"

"Window?"

"Four stories up."

"Dammit."

They sat there, heavy silence falling as they remembered what happened last night. 

"Are – are they okay?" Akaashi asked, voicing both their thoughts.

Bokuto sighed, bouncing his leg as he sat down. "I don't know. I just thought they were petty. I didn't think it was anything... like that."

"Yeah."

They were silent again. 

 

Daishou was making himself coffee in the kitchen when Kuroo appeared behind him. 

He screeched when he turned around. A very disheveled, very zombie-looking, and  _ very _ hungover Kuroo stood in front of him. 

Kuroo winced at the noise, then laughed at the terrified expression on Daishou's face. Daishou just glared at him, praying to god they wouldn't talk about last night. 

There was a beat of awkward silence. 

"Listen, about last night..." Kuroo started. 

Daishou adamantly looked away. "Forget about it."

"I just–"

"I'm over it. We were drunk and I had repressed shit. Won't happen again," Daishou pointedly brushed him off, looking anywhere but Kuroo as he finished making his coffee. 

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry." Kuroo paused. "For everything."

Daishou said nothing, grabbing another mug from the cabinet.

Kuroo frowned. "Are you just gonna ign–"

Daishou turned to face him. "Want some coffee?" He cut him off, smugly holding up the "World's Best Daddy" mug. 

Kuroo blinked in surprise. "God yes." He grinned. 

Daishou smiled back at him. 

Soon enough, everyone else emerged from their rooms, lining up beside the coffee maker, each person taking one of Kuroo's 57 coffee mugs. 

Everyone stood in the kitchen and talked and laughed and ignored the elephant in the room, and maybe that was okay, maybe the best thing to do when you can't get over something is to go around it. 

Maybe some things need to be forgotten in order to move on.  


	23. *update*

hi everyone! sorry that after such a long wait that this isn’t a new chapter waiting for you. in case you haven’t noticed, it’s just me on this fic now. i won’t go into detail about it, but esmae and i won’t be writing this together anymore. part of me feels like i couldn’t do it without them, but i know i should, and i want to.

 

however, i regret to inform you guys that this fic is going on an indefinite hiatus. with just me, it’ll take a long time to get chapters out. not only that, but we’ve both kind of been into different things lately (for me it’s musicals lol), which, of course, hinders my productivity/interest on writing for haikyuu ( **blease** , season 4, where are you).

 

this fic means a lot to us, and to me, and i never want to fully abandon it, not ever. i just really feel the need to update you guys so you don’t go, like, half a year with no word from me about its status.

 

i will try, when i can, to get chapters up, but expect longer breaks between them. i’m really sorry it’s come to this, but i hope you can preserve your interest and patience with this fic.

 

thank you so so much for reading. i truly appreciate every one of you who’s left kudos, commented, bookmarked, shared, and everything. you’ve kept this fic going, really. i love you guys.

 

signing off, for now,

cameron.


	24. How To Not Get Food Poisoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (you wont believe what this fucking chapter is based off of)
> 
> hello everyone!! finally here's a chapter for you. this is the last chapter that has esmae's writing in it, so just in case you don't forget about them, be sure to keep an eye on their [ao3 account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmaewrites). as i said before, i can't possibly take credit for all of this fic, but with only my name as the author now, i kind of have to force it upon you! 
> 
> anyways, i jest. thank you all so much for the encouragement, it really means a lot to me. every message and comment has truly helped me keep writing. special thanks to tumblr user [isaisanoodle](https://isaisanoodle.tumblr.com/) for talking to me way back in february, your messages inspired me to go back to the document and write for the first time in ages. i love all of you sm, and wow, this fic is so close to 400 kudos?! that's insane! thank you guys. honestly, looking back at the earlier chapters of this is already lowkey cringey for me, but i suppose that's a good thing - it means that i'm improving. thank you all for sticking along w/ me. <3
> 
> i'm in a lot better place than i was a few months ago, but i still have a bunch of schoolwork and hardly any motivation (but hey, it's always been like that!). i've also been super into newsies and the book of mormon, and i hope to write for those things, too. i kind of want a multichapter bom fic up at some point but it's a bit unlikely considering i have this fic, my already low motivation and bad habits, and no sense of humor! lmao.
> 
> anyways, sorry for the long author's note. if you want to track updates on this fic on tumblr, you can follow the tag [the daishou problem](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/the-daishou-problem). i'll post random updates and whatnot there along with posts for new chapters.

Daishou was looking frantically through the fridge - a difficult feat, given the fact their fridge consisted of 32 take-out containers (most of which were no longer edible), a gallon of milk (expired), 7 to-go coffee cups each only halfway consumed (Kuroo insisted on putting them in the fridge, then proceeded to never drink them), some apple-sauce pouches (old), and at least 10 tupperware containers of scrambled eggs (all with varying degrees of mold).

The take out was usually the only safe option, as they got some too often to be healthy, but even that was risky business.

Daishou was opening, smelling, and tasting each of the many boxes.

He took a hesitant bite of one, spit it out into his hand, and looked around hurriedly for the garbage can.

"Having fun?" Kuroo said, walking into the kitchen and leaning smugly against the counter. Daishou glared at him.

"Shouldn't you be helping?" Daishou pointed adamantly towards Bokuto's door, "He's your friend too!"

The hyperactive man in question was currently laying in bed, watching Disney films, and crying. He hadn't left his room since the weekend started. He barely ate, and barely participated in any conversation with Daishou and Kuroo.

So now, Daishou was looking through the fridge to find something for Bokuto to eat, because Kuroo insisted that he should do it.

"I just went in there and recommended he watch Homeward Bound, the original though, because what are we? Savages?" Kuroo replied.

"I'm not sure that counts as helping."

"Listen man, I'm not in a great spot myself, so technically you're the only one who's qualified to help with breakdowns right now."

Daishou tried not to appear surprised. Kuroo almost never disclosed how he was feeling willingly, and the fact that he had done so with Daishou was concerning to say the least. Unfortunately for Daishou, he did not have much time to cover up his reaction, and Kuroo picked up on his discomfort.

"What, Daishou? I have problems too," Kuroo snapped. It was less angry and more exhausted.

"I never said you didn't."

Kuroo just shrugged and changed the topic. "You should clean out the fridge while you're at it."

"That's a good idea," Daishou said. He pulled out a month old take-out box and set it on the counter.

He pulled out another one, which was only from about a day ago, and sighed in relief.

"Bokuto! I found some food for you!" He yelled. There was no response.

Daishou sighed. “Taste that to make sure it’s still good, okay?” He motioned Kuroo towards the counter.

Kuroo trudged the 2 steps into the kitchen like he was never asked to do something more laborious in his life, grabbed some chopsticks from the drawer, and yanked the top off of the plastic container. He was about to take a bite of the food until he looked down at what he was eating and dropped his chopsticks in disgust.

“Eugh!”

Daishou jumped. “Jesus, what’s wrong?” He turned around to look at Kuroo, but was suddenly yanked up by the arm and dragged out the front door.

“That food’s spoiled!” Kuroo whisper-shouted. “You trying to kill us?”

“No you dumb fucking idiot, the container next to it!” Daishou hissed back.

“How was I supposed to tell, the containers look exactly the same!”

“Well sorry you can’t distinguish good food from spoiled food, your majesty. I’ll be sure to consider your poor senses and clarify next time.”

Kuroo glowered at him. “Why can’t you just make him something.”

“Because out of the three of us I’m the _least_ qualified to cook,” Daishou replied, “and I can’t just buy him new takeout either because all my money is in that stupid jar!” He angrily motioned in the general direction of said jar, then shook his head and sighed. “Do you even know why he’s upset?”

"I don't know, it's a lot of stuff," Kuroo said, "He didn't do so well on a test he studied really hard for, and he and Akaashi have been too busy to talk. I think he's just overwhelmed. But he's handling it. And..." Kuroo trailed off.

"And what?"

"I don't think last week helped."

Daishou winced at the memory. Kuroo didn’t have to say it; he knew what he was talking about it. It hurt to think about.

"Yeah," Daishou said, because he didn't know what else to say.

Something flashed across Kuroo's face for a moment. Something like hurt.

“Well, whatever,” Kuroo averted his gaze and crossed his arms, “the point is that Bokuto’s having a bad day, and you tried to poison him!”

“I did _not!_ I’m telling you, the containers just look exactly the same, it’s easy to mix them up if you’re not paying attention!” Daishou replied. Suddenly a thought popped up in his head. “Wait…”

He met eyes with Kuroo, who looked to have connected the same dots he did. Without a word between them they rushed back inside the apartment.

Daishou turned into the kitchen and immediately noticed both containers missing.

"Oh no."

They shared a panicked look.

Bokuto exited his room at that very moment. "Oh hey guys. Thanks for the food." He stood awkwardly for a few moments, as though he wanted to say something, but then retreated back into his room.

They waited a moment before they started arguing.

"You had to poison him!" Kuroo whispered.

"I didn't mean to!"

"He already felt like shit, and now he's gonna have food poisoning!"

"Oh my god. _Oh my god_."

"The boy cries all morning, and ya give him food poisoning."

"We gotta tell him!"

"No! It'll just make him anxious. You should just try to make him feel better so he won’t feel as bad when the POISON YOU GAVE HIM sets in."

Daishou nodded. "How long do you think that'll take?"

"Hmm. I'd say until sunset.

"Oh my god. He's gonna feel like such shit. I gotta give that motherfucker the best day EVER. He's gonna forget that he's ever been sad in his LIFE," Daishou replied.

Kuroo grinned. "That's the spirit."

Daishou took a deep breath and started off towards Bokuto's room.

He knocked cautiously, but the door swung open when he touched it.

Bokuto's head swiveled around like an owl's at the noise. His eyes were wide and red from crying and the English version of Aladdin was playing on his computer. Without subtitles.

"Are you just... nevermind." Daishou eyed Bokuto worriedly. "Anyways... Hey... Bokuto..."

"Whaddya want?" Bokuto asked, rubbing at his eye.

"Well Bokuto… There's a... uhhhh... a part two... to the lunch I gave you."

Almost instantly Bokuto's tiredness went out the window. He jumped out of bed, flinging away his laptop in a way that made Daishou flinch.

"PART TWO?!"

"Yeah..." Daishou said. His brain flashed to an image of Bokuto throwing up in a toilet later that night, and he winced.

"What is it!"

"Well... uh, what's the most fun thing you can think of?"

Bokuto pondered this for a moment, then his eyes lit up with an idea. "I actually have a list of stuff I've wanted to do lately!" Bokuto darted over to his desk before Daishou could respond and pulled out an actual list.

"The things I REALLY wanna do are written in red."

Daishou took the list and glanced it over. He could practically feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Bokuto, everything’s in red."

"Yeah I know!" Bokuto was practically vibrating with excitement, a stark contrast to how he was about 45 seconds ago.

"Well what do you wanna do first?" Daishou was happy that Bokuto was feeling better, but the threat of food poisoning loomed like a thunder cloud.

Bokuto thought for a moment. "Let's go to the park and FaceTime Akaashi!"

"Uhh, why?"

"Because he's at Fukurodani and you've never met the rest of my teammates!"

"Okay? Well let's go before you vomit–I MEAN... vomit in anticipation!" Daishou winced.

"Hell yeah!"

Bokuto practically bounded out of his room, Daishou following guiltily in tow.

"You guys leaving?" Kuroo asked from his position on the couch.

"Yeah."

"Yep! We're going to the park to FaceTime Akaashi," Bokuto said cheerily.

Kuroo squinted. "...Couldn't you do that here?"

Bokuto simply waved him off and Daishou shrugged. Kuroo said goodbye as they left.

Kuroo flopped into the couch as soon as the door shut. He let out a breath he'd been holding for days. It was nice to have the place to himself for once.  
  
After Daishou and Bokuto walked around for an unnecessary amount of time looking for Bokuto's specific park bench (he didn't remember where it was and insisted on finding it because _no Daishou we are not not going to sit on just any old park bench_ ) they sat down and started FaceTiming Konoha.

"Wait I thought we were FaceTiming Akaashi?"

"I said you had to meet all my friends."

_"All?"_

"Yeah! It'll be fun!" Bokuto seemed far more excited about FaceTiming his friends than Daishou, which was to be expected.

Daishou in fact, did not have a good time. There were seven remarks about his hair, at least thirteen awkward silences (which Bokuto didn't seem to notice), and countless referenced inside jokes that Daishou did not even come close to understanding. Bokuto also introduced him like he was making an appearance on his YouTube channel, which was... weird.

To make things worse, Bokuto insisted on telling all the stories that embarrassed Daishou and/or made him seem insane.

"–And then he PUNCHED the CAMERA!"

"Uhhhhh," Sarukui seemed at a loss for words, glancing nervously at Daishou.

"Anyways! It was nice talking to you! I'm gonna FaceTime Akaashi," Bokuto interrupted.

Sarukui said goodbye and hung up.

Bokuto immediately began a FaceTime call with Akaashi, who picked up almost instantly.

"I'm at practice," Akaashi said, obviously not practicing. He then seemed to notice Daishou in the corner of the screen. "Why is he there?"

"I have a name."

"Really? I didn't notice."

Daishou just scowled.

"Hey Akaashi talking to your girlfrien– oh it's just Bokuto," Onaga could be seen in the background.

Akaashi snorted at his remark. "Get back to practice!" He yelled.

"Hypocrite!"

"I'm getting water," Akaashi waved his (empty) water bottle. He turned back to the camera. "I should be getting back though," he said.

"Practice gets over in like twenty minutes right?" Bokuto asked.

"Yeah, why?"

Bokuto beamed. "Great! We'll come visit you!"

"Okay?"

Bokuto hit the end call button and jumped up. "The next train should be at the nearest station soon."

"Why are we visiting him again?"

"Because I want to see him."

"You just FaceTimed him!"

Bokuto just waved him off and started off in the direction of the train station.

Daishou sighed and followed after him.

By the time they reached Fukurodani, practice had just ended.

They hung out with Akaashi for about forty minutes before he decided to go home. Bokuto seemed happy. He and Akaashi mostly talked while Daishou looked on, feeling content, but also like he was intruding. The whole event could've been done over FaceTime, and was therefore redundant. Yet, Bokuto seemed happier, so no one really minded. They all walked to the train station together. Bokuto dramatically recounted events that had happened while he was at Fukurodani, Akaashi occasionally interjecting to correct him.

After Akaashi left Bokuto seemed to deflate.

"So what do you want to do next?" Daishou asked in an attempt to cheer him up.

It seemed to work as Bokuto's eyes lit up. "Let's go to a movie!"

"Okay," Daishou replied. Some sort of foreboding feeling itched in the back of his mind. “What movie were you thinking?”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s got explosions!”

Daishou nodded. Seemed simple enough.

They got off the train once the theater was within walking distance.

It didn't start until they were almost to the front of the line.

"Hey Daishou, look,” Bokuto pointed at a sign in the box office window, “couples get half off!"

"We're not dating?"

"Yeah, but we're broke."

Daishou glanced up to the ticket booth to see that Bokuto was right: couples did indeed get half off. He then looked above the poster and his eyes met a familiar face.

_Nope. Nope. This isn't happening._

Because inside the ticket booth, was none other than Kuguri Naoyasu himself.

Daishou was busy internally screaming, so he didn't hear Bokuto saying what Daishou knew he would inevitably say until he elbowed him.

"Daishou, we should pretend to be a couple," he whispered. But you couldn't really call it whispering because it was Bokuto and his whisper was about as loud as normal people's inside voice.

"Oh my god, no."

It was too late, as Bokuto had already got the idea set in his head, and they were almost to the front of the line.

"Please, Bokuto, that is Kuguri. PlEAse don't do this."

Bokuto ignored him. They were at the front of the line.

"Hi Daishou. That'll be 2700 yen." Kuguri said after Bokuto (loudly) announced which movie they wanted to see.

“Actually,” Bokuto started. Daishou put his face in his hands. “We qualify for the couple’s discount.”

"You two aren't dating."

"Yes we are!" Bokuto said, overdramatically grabbing Daishou's shoulders and crushing him in the process.

Kuguri, ever-expressionless, replied again, "No you are not."

Daishou, meanwhile, was frozen in sheer terror, and said nothing while Bokuto and Kuguri argued back and forth.

"Yes we are! I can prove it!" Bokuto declared after about two minutes of debate. He then attempted to kiss Daishou, but more or less just smashed their faces together.

Kuguri facepalmed. "Oh my god. Whatever. Take your discount and go," he said handing them their tickets as Bokuto and Daishou coughed up money.

They headed inside, and about five seconds later, Daishou darted back out.

"We're not actually dating."

"Really?" Kuguri’s voice held no inflection. "I had no idea."

Daishou glared and went back to find Bokuto waiting outside the actual theater.

"I can't believe you did that," Daishou said, finally finding words after that mortifying experience.

"What's a little kissing between bros?" Bokuto laughed.

"Two guys bein' dudes..." Daishou paused. "I'm not sure you can call that kissing."

"Well, you're not my actual boyfriend."

"You USED me!" Daishou said in mock outrage. By now they had taken their seats and people in the theater were glaring. "I refuse to be your side hoe."

Bokuto laughed and at this point a middle aged woman shushed them.

They were silent for a few minutes, and then went back to talking, albeit quieter. However, the movie was quite gory and Bokuto cheered at every sight of blood, which earned them more looks.

They exited the movie theater and Daishou violently avoided eye contact with Kuguri while Bokuto waved.

"What next?" Daishou asked as they started towards the train station for the umpteenth time that day.

"Let's play volleyball!"

Daishou was, frankly, exhausted. However, he was having a good time and the guilt of giving Bokuto food poisoning loomed over his head.

"Sure," he paused. “Actually, my college is only like five blocks from here, we can just head over there.”

"Cool, let's go!"

Once they got to Daishou's gym they practiced until they got tired. Bokuto, who apparently wore knee pads and shorts under his pants at all times, simply took his pants off in the middle of the gym and grabbed a volleyball; Daishou nearly had a heart attack (for the fifth time that day).

They were hanging out in the locker room – Daishou talked to the people he had practiced with, like, twice, and then immediately forgotten their names – and Bokuto played on his phone.

Suddenly Bokuto jumped up.

"Daishou, we HAVE to do this!" He showed a [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-A3e-dtcYpE) to Daishou and some curious teammates crowded around to watch. Daishou glanced at the title of the [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FqypEHjLcU) and mentally shrieked. The video read "Teacup Dick Challenge" and if the incident at the movie theater taught Daishou anything, it was that they would be trying it.

"HELL YEAH, LET'S DO IT!" one of the guys (who Bokuto didn't know) said. He high-fived Bokuto, who seemed equally as enthusiastic.

Daishou pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do we even have a fan?"

"There's one in the coach's office," another guy said, who apparently also wanted to try it.

After they had gathered the necessary supplies (fan, shower curtain, cups with water, and a frisbee) everyone started stripping.

Daishou adamantly refused, however, and instead watched in amusement (and vague horror) as everyone got freezing cold water spilled on their dicks. He made sure he got Bokuto’s attempts on camera, though, to show Kuroo (who would only slightly believe the story without proof) and for potential blackmail, if Bokuto should ever become ashamed of this day (he wouldn’t).

After, frankly, too much of that shit, Daishou and Bokuto finally escaped the locker room.

They left the gym, Daishou panickedly noting that the sun was starting to set.

"UHHHH..." Daishou glanced nervously at Bokuto.

"My stomach hurts," Bokuto mumbled.

Daishou took a small step away. "What do you want to do now?" He asked, hoping his terror and guilt wasn't obvious in his voice.

"Let's watch the sunset!"

Daishou audibly gulped. "Okay,” he forced out.

They wound back up on Bokuto's park bench, watching the sunset. They made idle conversation as the sun inched towards the horizon. Bokuto was still excitable and moved erratically, which uneased Daishou to no end. At one point Bokuto leaned over him in some sort of wild gesture and Daishou was struck with the fear that Bokuto was suddenly going to unleash his lunch all over Daishou’s lap.

As the evening light faded, Bokuto insisted on giving the sun a countdown, which he misjudged about four times. When he finally got it timed right, he cheered as if it were New Years’, when really it was just Monday.

After the sun had almost completely set, Bokuto jumped up, seemingly fine. There was no projectile vomiting, as Daishou had been anticipating.

"Alright, we should go home now," he said. Daishou was, needless to say, Very confused.

"How are you okay?" He asked.

Bokuto blinked at him, very owl-like. "What do you mean?"

“You were supposed to throw up!” Daishou exclaimed.

“I mean, do you want me to? Because I can do it on command–” Bokuto began to Assume Position and Daishou frantically stopped him.

After Daishou calmed down from his brief moment of panic, Bokuto said, “Why would I do that, anyway?”

Daishou sighed, he was probably going to be sick tomorrow anyways, and he'd already dug his grave. "I might’ve accidentally left out, like, two month old takeout for you, and you ate it. Kuroo told me not to tell you and just to try and cheer you up."

Bokuto was silent for a moment. Then he burst out into laughter. "Nah, dude. I saw that you were cleaning out the fridge so I threw those out and ate the other one from last night."

_"What."_

"Thanks for today though! I feel a lot better."

Daishou reasoned that Akaashi had more to do with that than he did, but he shrugged and smiled. Bokuto was unpredictable, but at the end of the day could be a positive force to be around.

"I had a good time. Y'know, besides all the mortifying experiences you put me through today."

They got back to the apartment, and Bokuto said he was going to call Akaashi again. Kuroo hadn't moved from his position on his couch. Daishou sat down next to him.

"Bokuto's fine," he said, glancing at Kuroo, who was trying to stifle a smirk. "But I suspect you already knew that." He eyed Kuroo suspiciously.

"Dude I learned to differentiate between takeout containers at the age of twelve." Kuroo laughed.

"Your parents didn't cook?"

"Do you think my parents cooked for me?"

"Oh yeah, that's right."

"Yeah, but anyways, I knew. I just wanted the place to myself."

Daishou threw a pillow at him, hitting him squarely in the face. "Asshole," he said, but there was no venom in his voice and he was grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time on The Daishou Problem™:
> 
> a throwback to summer 2016


	25. Pokemon Go Users Get Naked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo! im back. i gotta say, i like this chapter.
> 
> if you couldn't tell by the title (and if you haven't been paying attention to chapter titles, you definitely should be), this chapter may or may not have something to do with pokemon go. yes i know pokemon go came out nearly two years ago. this fic takes place in a void where time is meaningless and therefore i am allowed to make a chapter about pokemon go in 2018 and this is totally to not hide the fact that this shit was headcanoned like 2 days after pokemon go came out in real time. y eah, that's how long it's been.
> 
> speaking of chapter titles, this one is a real headline. really. in fact, there are [so](http://aro-alien.tumblr.com/post/148482402980/itsstuckyinmyhead-looking-up-pokemon-go-news-is) [many](http://aro-alien.tumblr.com/post/148762208878/blameaspartame-the-phenomenon) [amazing](http://aro-alien.tumblr.com/post/148336247640/theglintoftherail-its-been-like-two-days) [headlines](http://aro-alien.tumblr.com/post/147949357730/pastel-chaos-the-ride-never-ends) it was hard to choose just one for this chapter. pls look at them its incredible.
> 
> anyways, i hope you like this chapter! comments make me so so happy so i appreciate every one of you who comments, no matter how small and/or incoherent it is! no need to be shy aha

The world had turned to chaos. Every single person on planet earth that gave any sort of shit (even the very slightest shit) was outside. It was the latest gossip on the news, it came up in every conversation with anyone you encountered, and now the world was even more divided than it already was -  and over primary colors, at that.

Yep, it was the middle of the blazing, sweaty month of July when Pokemon Go was finally released.

Kuroo smirked at the three team leaders on his phone, fully knowing what was to come. _I’m gonna beat his ass,_ he thought, then made his choice.

 

“I can’t believe video games are making me go outside now,” Kenma said. He glanced down at his phone and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Why would they release this in the middle of summer?”

Kuroo grinned. “If video games can get you to go outside, then I consider it a win,” he replied. He stopped in his tracks and tapped on his phone. “Hold on, another Rattata.”

As soon as Kenma woke up that morning, he called Kuroo to remind him that the game had been released. There was no way Kuroo would’ve forgotten though – not only did he also love Pokemon, but Kenma had been reminding him regularly since the release date was announced. They decided to walk around together to search for Pokemon, and by the time Kuroo got to his house, Kenma was already almost to level five (despite not having left the house yet). Kuroo joked that that was probably the earliest he’d see Kenma awake all summer break, to which Kenma slammed the door on his face and didn’t let him in until he begged Kenma through the door. A fairly eventful morning.

“Even in the AR world the city’s infested with rats,” Kenma said, stopping to get the Rattata as well. Kuroo snorted.

“I have like eight of them now. They seem to be really common,” Kuroo commented. He looked up from his phone and found Kenma sitting on the ground against the wall, relieving himself of the harsh sunlight. He wiped his face again and squinted up at Kuroo.

“I’m tired,” he said, answering the question on Kuroo’s face, “and it’s hot.”

“Okay, then let’s hit this last Pokestop and head back home.”

“No. I want to keep playing Pokemon.”

Kuroo chuckled. “You kind of have to be outside to play, you know.” Kenma groaned, and Kuroo laughed to himself again. “How about we head to my apartment to take a break, steal some of Daishou’s ice cream, and catch the Pokestops we get on the way. Sound good?”

Kenma thought this over, then eventually nodded and lifted his arms up towards Kuroo. Kuroo grabbed his hands and hoisted him up, and they began their trek to the train station. As expected, the streets were crowded with people playing Pokemon Go, and every remotely popular place had become a Pokestop. It was like a zombie apocalypse, but with Pokemon. An a-pokecalypse, if you will.

They got to the station and stepped up by the tracks, waiting for their train to arrive.

“Ugh, can I borrow a charger when we get to your place? This game is a battery drainer.” Kenma said, eyes still glued to his phone. He was currently catching an Eevee.

“Sure,” Kuroo replied, eyes following the approaching train, “but we might have to steal Bokuto’s or Daishou’s, since I need a charge, too.”

“Easy,” Kenma said, as if it were a challenge. Kuroo snorted and they stepped onto the train. Sometimes it seemed to him that Kenma was just living his life as if it were a video game.

As expected, the train was crowded, but Kenma beelined to the one free seat he spotted, forcing Kuroo to stand and hold onto the hanging strap above him. Kenma sat in the seat with his knees to his chest, phone inches from his face as he watched his little avatar move along with the train. He didn’t look away until the train went underground and lost service.

Kuroo watched him with amusement. It wasn’t all that exciting, but Kenma’s calm habits were intriguing to watch. Familiar. Riding the train with him was familiar. Kenma was familiar.

Kuroo liked familiar.

And then, something quite unfamiliar happened.

Kenma looked up at Kuroo, then back down, and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

Kenma squirmed around in his seat. “About, y’know…” He trailed off, words failing him. “Last week.”

Kuroo blinked, then looked up across the train cart. He tried _so_ hard not to think about it, but of course every damn moment his mind wasn’t occupied it ended up intruding in on his thoughts.

Finally, Kuroo spoke again. “How is it your fault?” He asked.

“Because I sa–”

“No,” Kuroo interrupted. “Not that. I mean, like, all of it.” He turned to look at Kenma, eyes serious. “How could you be to blame for any of this?” His voice was almost weak. Desperate, maybe. Looking for answers he couldn’t find.

Kenma quickly diverted his eyes. How was he to blame? He didn’t really know _how_ , he just knew that it _was_. There had to be _some_ reason Daishou hated him, right?

“Well, I guess because I li–” Kenma cut himself off. He couldn’t just _say_ those things out loud in public. He met Kuroo’s eyes to make sure he was still paying attention, and then looked down at his knees again. He paused and exhaled softly. “You know,” he said.

“But you couldn’t help that, though!” Kuroo blurted. “It’s not fair to you, Kenma. It wasn’t fair for Daishou to get mad at you for it, and it wasn’t fair to yourself for you to agree with him.” He stared down at Kenma, a look in his eyes that’d finally been unleashed. The words flowed from his mouth so precisely, as if each word had been hand-picked and aged. He sighed. “It’s not your fault,” he finished. “Don’t apologize.”

Kenma glanced up at him nervously. “...Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Kuroo replied, “Don’t spend too much time worrying about it.” _Like I did._

Kenma looked at him for a moment, then back down. “You know I’m probably gonna feel bad anyway.”

“No!”

Kenma let out a small, silent chuckle. “It’s okay, Kuro,” he said, “I know when you’re not lying to me.”

A grin spread across Kuroo’s face. “You really make it seem like I lie all the time!”

“You _do_.”

“I am a man of honesty!”

“You are a sneaky bastard.”

Kuroo covered his ears with mock shock. “Language!”

“Stop acting like a dad,” Kenma replied.

Kuroo lowered his hands and looked off into the distance. “I _was_ a dad.”

“Stop it.”

Kuroo laughed. A passenger sitting next to Kenma got up at the stop, and Kuroo plopped down in his place. He leaned over and watched over Kenma’s shoulder as he checked his phone again. There was still no service, and he sighed.

“Relax, we get off at the next stop,” Kuroo said, smile on his lips. “Then you can keep catching Pokemon and eat all of Daishou’s Papico you want.”

“How much does he have?”

“A lot.”

“He’s so dumb.”

Kuroo laughed. “You’re right,” he wiped his eye, “But you’ll be thanking him once you step out of the air conditioning.”

“Maybe so,” Kenma replied, the smallest smile faint on his lips. He was silent for a bit, deep in thought, then said, “Hey, Kuro, can I ask you something?”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

Kenma locked eyes with him. “Do you still like Daishou?”

“Do I _huh?”_

Kenma just gave him a look that said _you heard me_. Kuroo stared at him like he’d grown another head, completely taken aback. His eyebrows were furrowed, trying to wrap his head around Kenma’s question. Did he… what?

In fact, he was kind of starting to feel nauseated.

The corners of his mouth twitched up. “Ha, funny, Kenma. Like I’d make that mistake again,” he laughed, though his eyes were vacant as he turned to look out the window. “I’m always careful not to make the same mistake twice.”

“You sure?” Kenma asked.

Kuroo grinned. “Of course.”

Kenma narrowed his eyes at him.

“What?”

“You’re doing that thing you do when you don’t want people knowing how you really feel.”

“What? I don’t do anything of the sort!”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“...Do not.”

“Do too.”

Kenma gave a sly smirk to Kuroo.

“What are you even talking about?” Kuroo laughed defeatedly.

“You grinned,” Kenma replied, pointing at his face.

“Oh, so a man can’t smile anymore?”

“You know what I mean,” Kenma said with a smile of his own.

Kuroo smiled to himself and faced forward again. “Why do you always call me out while we’re in public?”

“So there’s a greater chance of you getting distracted or something happening to forcibly change the subject.”

Case in point, the train screeched to a stop and the automated voice system announced their arrival to the station.

“Like that,” Kenma said, pointing up at the speakers. Kuroo shook his head with a smile on his face, and he and Kenma exited the train and made their way to the apartment.

Kuroo flung open the door of the apartment. “Daddy’s home!” He yelled.

“Oh, please, _never_ say that again,” Daishou immediately begged from the living room, while Kenma hit Kuroo in the gut with no hesitation.

Kuroo wheezed with laughter, and Kenma went directly to the freezer to retrieve Daishou’s ice cream. Kuroo followed him into the kitchen (after he recovered from the attack) and washed his hands. Out in the living room, he could see Daishou sitting at the coffee table doing homework.

“Being responsible, are we?” Kuroo asked with a smirk. “How could you possibly be doing work when Pokemon Go just came out? Oh, sorry, I forgot you live in a jungle, you must not have heard–”

“I know what it is, fucko,” Daishou replied, “I downloaded it this morning.”

Kenma approached Kuroo, appearing in Daishou’s view of the kitchen, and handed him a Papico package.

For a moment, Daishou’s face twisted into something strange. Then his eyes flickered down to the ice cream in Kenma’s hands. “My Papico!” He cried.

“Deal with it, it’s hot out,” Kuroo replied. Daishou just sneered at him and turned back to his work, but wasn’t actually working. Awkwardness settled over the apartment like a fine layer of dust. Kuroo felt really weird trying to unwrap his Papico in the silence.

Kenma, who had backed away from Daishou’s view, tugged on Kuroo’s arm. Kuroo looked down at him, and he pointed at his phone. No voice.

“Oh yeah, a charger,” Kuroo remembered. He then checked his own phone, then called, “Hey Daishou, is Bokuto here?”

“No, I think he went to the store or something. He should be back soon.”

Kuroo nodded to himself. “Alright. C’mon, Kenma.” He exited the kitchen, with Kenma close behind him, and went to the hallway. He popped into Bokuto’s room, grabbed his charger, tossed it to Kenma, and led them both back into his own room.

Kenma flopped down onto Kuroo’s bed. “That was weird,” he groaned.

“Now you know how I feel,” Kuroo responded.

“Oh, jeez, it always feels like that?”

“Take a guess. You were stuck in the elevator with us, too.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. That was the worst. He kept looking at us with his weird eyes.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of his eyes,” Kuroo said. Kenma looked at him. “If anything,” Kuroo smirked, “You should be making fun of his stupid green hair.”

Kenma snorted. “Didn’t he make you dye it once?”

“Yes, and it was awful. And not worth it. The green hair is stupid. Why would he want it green?”

“He likes reptilian things?” Kenma suggested. “Maybe he’s trying to look like a snake.”

“His dumb snake’s not even green!” Kuroo exclaimed.

“Are you talking about _Snake?”_ Daishou yelled from the living room.

“Fuck you!” Kuroo yelled back.

Kenma snickered. Kuroo looked down at him, then caught the laughter and began to giggle, too. Back in the living room, Daishou couldn’t help but silently chuckle to himself over his homework.

Forty-five minutes later, Bokuto very audibly entered the apartment with at least a million plastic grocery bags. Kenma stirred awake from his cat nap, and Kuroo sighed and set down his book to get up and help Bokuto.

“We gon’ play Pokemon?” Kenma mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, just come out when you’re ready,” Kuroo said, then left the room. By the time he got to the kitchen, Bokuto had successfully gotten all the bags off his arms and onto the limited counter space with only one item falling on the floor.

Kuroo picked up said item. “Goddammit, Bokuto, another baguette?” He cried.

“It was on sale!” Bokuto defended, throwing his arms out defensively.

“And I suppose that was on sale, too?” Kuroo pointed at the box of mozzarella sticks in Bokuto’s outstretched hand. Bokuto quickly clutched it to his chest and _hmph_ ’d at Kuroo, passing him to stick it in the freezer. Kuroo snickered and began to pull the groceries out of the bags.

“Mozzarella sticks?” Daishou’s head popped over the bar. “Can we have them now?”

“No, go eat your crickets or something,” Kuroo replied.

“Those are for the snake, not me,” Daishou said.

Kuroo shrugged. “Eh, same thing.”

Daishou deadpanned, unable to physically strangle Kuroo from the other side of the bar. “Ha ha, very funny. Now gimme, I’m hungry.”

Kuroo threw the baguette at his face.

Daishou fumbled to catch the projectile, then seemed to recognize what it was. “God damn it, Bokuto!” He yelled.

Kuroo laughed as Bokuto exclaimed an apology, and Daishou unwrapped the plastic and took a bite directly from the bread. During the chaos, Kenma walked in and tugged on Kuroo’s shirt.

“You ready?” He asked. Kenma nodded.

“Ooh, where ya going?” Bokuto asked.

“Gonna play Pokemon Go.”

Bokuto gasped. “Ooh, I wanna go!” He turned to Daishou. “Daishou, let’s go!”

“I thought you weren’t even really a Pokemon fan?” Daishou asked.

Bokuto was already opening up the app on his phone. “This one’s fun, though. Look, look at my Weedle!” He shoved his phone in Daishou’s face.

Daishou went cross-eyed to look at it, then shoved it away. “I already caught, like, thirty Weedles. They’re super common.”

“I know! I just like this one. It’s cute.”

Daishou eyed Kuroo and Kenma, who each tried to hide their smiles. Kuroo glanced over Bokuto’s shoulder to look at his screen.

“Whoa, there’s a lot of yellow gyms around here!”

“Oh, that’s probably ‘cuz I was playing them on my way to the store.”

“You _what?”_ Kuroo snatched the phone from his hands and clicked on a nearby gym – and lo and behold – there stood Bokuto’s yellow-clad avatar with a Pidgey center stage. “Huh? How did you–? This thing’s CP is only 300!” Kuroo yelled.

“What?” Daishou grabbed the phone and clicked on another gym, also conquered by Bokuto and a low-level Spearow. “How?”

“I dunno,” Bokuto shrugged, seemingly unphased, while the three Pokemon nerds around him internally combusted.

“Well, you’re an Instinct. It doesn’t matter,” Daishou waved him off. Bokuto didn’t really seem to care about his comment, but Kuroo’s head snapped up.

“What team are you on?” He asked.

Daishou’s trademark snake-like smile crept up on his face. “Take a guess.”

Kuroo crossed his arms and mirrored the snarky grin – ( _what are they doing?_ Kenma thought) – as if trying to size him up. “Ha, Mystic, right?”

“Ew, why would I want to be on the same team as you?”

Kuroo’s face dropped. “I’m. I’m not on Mystic.”

The pair stared at each other for a moment, gears turning.

Then, like the dramatic bitch he was, Kuroo collapsed onto the counter. _“Why?”_ he cried. “First my apartment, then my school, then my volleyball team, and now _this?_ ” Kuroo banged his fist on the countertop.

Bokuto jumped back. “Huh? What happened? I don’t get it!”

“They both chose Valor thinking the other was gonna pick Mystic,” Kenma explained quietly. At this Kuroo made a long whining noise, and Bokuto burst into laughter. Meanwhile, Daishou looked upset yet unsurprised.

“You know what, deal with it, you damned cat,” Daishou leaned in, “at this point, I’m inevitable.”

“Okay, well, can we go now?” Kenma asked (mostly to Kuroo), voice barely above a whisper.

Kuroo sighed and pulled his head up pitifully. “Yeah, sure, let’s go.”

“Alright!” Bokuto jumped into action and was out the door within minutes, the remainder of the groceries left forgotten on the counter. Everyone got their shoes on and went out the door. To hunt for Pokemon.

What a world we live in.

The four wandered the streets, chasing after every Caterpie, Bellsprout, and Exeggcute that popped up on screen. Kenma ran after every Eevee that was nearby on his quest to get a Vaporeon, and Kuroo was unreasonably upset that he couldn’t find any more Squirtles. Bokuto seemed very content catching every single Weedle and Rattata he stumbled upon, giving them stupid nicknames on the spot ( _“Okay, this one’s Buttons”, “I’m gonna name you Pigeon”, “Hello, Paper Clip!”,_ etc.). Daishou was both annoyed and confused at the fact that he needed 400 candies to evolve a Magikarp. They hopped from Pokestop to Pokestop, loitering at the ones with lures for Maximum Catchage. Thankfully, aside from the frequent server errors, things seemed to be going pretty well – running around the city, catching fake virtual monsters, getting tricked into exercising – it was a moment of exciting, sweaty solidarity.

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Kuroo turned around and looked at Daishou, who was staring at his phone with something like annoyance or confusion plastered on his face. “What?”

“How does this person already have a Gyarados?”

“Eh?”

“Look, at the Mystic gym on our left.”

Kuroo tapped on the gym, and his expression morphed from amazement to amusement in a matter of seconds. “Kenma!” He laughed.

“Huh!?” Daishou’s eyes whipped back down to his screen, and sure enough, that gym belonged to Kenma, and that Gyarados as well.

Kenma looked up from his phone with a _hm?_ and was met with Daishou’s bewildered eyes.

“You already got a Gyarados?”

Kenma nodded.

_“How?”_

Kenma averted his eyes and didn’t answer. Impatiently, Daishou repeated himself, and Kenma subtly shrunk in on himself.

“Oh, we’re doing this again, are we?” Daishou snarled. He balled his fists at his sides as his blood boiled with irritation and paranoia. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to bat away the thoughts that pushed their way into his head. _We used to be friends, you know._

“Hey, can you quit being a dick?” Kuroo said, taking a step towards Kenma defensively.

Daishou scoffed. “Oh, like _I’m_ the one being a dick–”

“He can’t _help_ it!” Kuroo yelled. “Getting angry at someone for something they can’t control is, undoubtedly, a dick move.”

“Then what are you doing getting mad at me?” Daishou spat back.

Kuroo faltered. Daishou couldn’t control his paranoia, he knew that. He couldn’t control the defensive and vindictive thoughts that sometimes managed to worm their way out his mouth. Kuroo took a deep breath.

“You may not be able to control your reactions,” Kuroo said, calm, “but you _can_ control your response.”

Whatever retort Daishou had ready seemed to dissolve on his lips. Anger threatened to rise up like stomach bile, but he pushed it down and took a deep breath. Of course Kenma would go nonverbal, just last week Daishou yelled at him for some bullshit while drunk and sad and out of his mind. It made sense. It wasn’t anything crazy, or unrealistic, or meaningful. Just his own anxiety. Daishou tried to relax.

“Daishou?” Kuroo said. He recognized the internal struggle in his eyes.

Daishou forced himself out of his head and looked back up at the pair in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Kenma looked up at him, eyes red. He wiped a tear from his cheek.

“I’m sorry for yelling, I didn’t mean to get mad like that,” Daishou said. “I know you can’t help it, I just kind of… lost myself for a moment.”

Kenma didn’t give any sort of response – he just continued to stare at Daishou – but his eyes had a knowing look to them.

Before anyone could speak again, Bokuto interrupted with a yell. “THERE’S A PIKACHU NEARBY!”

Everyone’s heads snapped to their phones as they checked the nearby Pokemon, and sure enough, there was a Pikachu... somewhere. Approximately three footprints (pawprints? duckprints?) away.

Bokuto looked at them with lightning in his eyes. _“I want that Pikachu.”_

The other three nodded in unison, and they began their hunt for the beloved mascot.

They roamed around hurriedly, eyes glued to their phones as they watched the little foot-paw-duck-prints decrease and increase indefinitely. Finally, after ten minutes of walking through dirty alleys and questionable neighborhoods, the footprints under the Pikachu disappeared.

Bokuto looked up and around at their surroundings. “Where is it?”

“It’s on the phone, you bird-brain,” Kuroo snorted.

“No, I know that, but _where is it?”_

It was a reasonable question, since the Pikachu was _supposed_ to be around here, but hadn’t popped up on screen yet.

Daishou looked around, then his face scrunched up in confusion. “Wait a minute, where are we?”

“Well, we’re–” Kuroo looked up, gazed at his surroundings, and visibly lost his confidence. He looked back at the map on his phone. “Um. I don’t know.”

“Great, so we’re lost,” Kenma breathed.

“We may be lost, but at least we have a Pikachu,” Bokuto said.

“We don’t have the Pikachu yet,” Kuroo reminded.

“But we will!”

Kenma wordlessly continued to wander around for the Pokemon, and Daishou sighed and followed suit. Bokuto charged ahead, rounded around the corner of a house, and then _screamed._

“Gah!” Daishou yelled, “What is it?” The other three jumped ahead to see what Bokuto screamed at.

“Ushiwaka!” Bokuto yelled.

And sure enough, there stood Ushijima Wakatoshi with his foolish, red-haired companion beside him.

“Bokuto… Koutarou,” Ushijima said, as if it took him a moment to conjure the name.

“Eh? You know this guy, Wakatoshi?” The fool shouted.

“Fukurodani’s former captain. Number four in the top five spikers in the country.”

“Ooh, that’s right behind you,” Tendou said. He gazed upon Bokuto, then a mischievous smile spread across his face like the Cheshire Cat on drugs (if he wasn’t already). “How’s it feel?”

Bokuto, who had just undergone a wide range of emotions in a span of 10 seconds, scrambled in response and proceeded to have a squawk-off with Tendou.

Ushijima watched on, expressionless, and Kuroo snickered behind them. Tendou finally caught sight of the trio behind the ace and his face lit up like he was a kid in a candy shop.

“Oh!” He pointed at Kenma, who was wearing his volleyball jacket. “A wild Nekoma appears!”

Kenma jumped and Kuroo and Daishou subconsciously stepped in front of him.

“Why is there so much happening?” Daishou asked the universe.

“I dunno, but let’s just roll with it,” Kuroo responded, still wearing his amused smile.

“Satori,” Ushijima’s voice stopped Tendou’s antics in its tracks. “Did you catch it yet?”

Only then did they realize that Tendou held a phone in each hand, presumably his and Ushijima’s. He stopped and looked at the screens, and shook his head.

“Nope, but it should be around here somewhere.” He replied.

“Ooh, are you playing Pokemon, too!?” Bokuto asked.

“We are looking for a Pikachu,” Ushijima said.

“Oh, so are we!”

“What team are you on?” Tendou asked, weird smile returning.

“Kuroo and Daishou back there are on Valor, Kenma’s on Mystic, and I’m on Instinct.”

Ushijima stared at him. “You should have joined Valor.”

“Yeah, alright, well, I’m going to go find that Pikachu,” Daishou said, excusing himself from the situation he didn’t care about. He turned around, fully ready to go get even more lost on his own, but stopped in his tracks. “Uh, where’d Kenma go?”

Kuroo whipped around. Sure enough, Kenma was gone.

“God damn it,” Kuroo said. He scanned the area and spotted Kenma walking towards them from about thirty meters away. “Oh, there he is.”

“Hey Kenma!” Bokuto yelled. “Where’d you go?”

Kenma returned and showed them his phone. “I went and caught that Pikachu.”

Everyone turned towards him, demanding to know where he found it. He pointed in the general direction from which he returned. “It was by that bush over there, near that garden.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Bokuto and Tendou took off across the street. After a moment, Ushijima followed wordlessly; Kuroo, Kenma, and Daishou trailed behind. By the time they got to the garden, Tendou and Bokuto looked equally disappointed and full of rage.

“It’s _gone!”_

“Gone?”

“Yeah, it’s not here anymore!”

Bokuto pointed an accusatory finger at Kenma. “You took it!”

“That’s not how it works,” Kenma said.

“Just keep looking, maybe it’s still around here somewhere,” Daishou suggested.

“No, No, Nohe~bi,” Tendou sang, doing a little dance as he inched towards Daishou.

“Eh!?” Daishou jumped back a bit. _What’s with this guy?_

“Look at the tracker,” he continued. He shoved both his and Ushijima’s phones into Daishou’s face. “The footprints are gone!” He pulled away before Daishou could even focus his eyes on the screen. “Your Pikachu’s gone!”

While Daishou was recovering from whatever the fuck that was, Kuroo looked at his phone and hummed in agreement. “The Monster’s right. We lost the Pikachu.”

“I didn’t,” Kenma said.

“We know, Kenma,” Bokuto said, dejected. He really wanted that Pikachu.

Kuroo suddenly gasped. “Oh!”

Bokuto jumped to his side and looked over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“There’s a Lapras nearby!”

Everyone looked down at their phones, and sure enough, the Lapras was only two footprints away.

“I don’t know what that is, but I want it!”

“I bet it’s somewhere in there!” Tendou pointed at the garden they stood near. “Let’s go!”

Everyone followed Tendou into the garden. It was a public park amidst the neighborhood, with green trees, shrubs, a gravel pathway, and a green stream that led into a pond at the center of the garden. There was no one else there, despite its beautiful and relaxing atmosphere. Ushijima walked with Tendou, who was playing for the both of them. Bokuto bounded alone on his own, while Daishou, Kuroo, and Kenma all wandered in relatively close proximity.

After a few minutes of wandering around the garden, Kenma came to the conclusion that the Lapras was, in fact, in the middle of the pond.

Kenma tugged on Kuroo’s shirt. “Um, Kuro?”

“Yeah?”

“I think,” Kenma looked around, “I think the Lapras is in… in _there_ ,” he pointed at the pond in the middle of the garden.

“Oh jeez. Are you sure?”

“It’s not anywhere else in the garden, and it seems like I’m the closest when walking around the lake, but doesn’t pop up anywhere, not even on the bridge.”

At this point, the others had found their way to them and heard the wonderful news.

“WELP,” Tendou, without hesitation, began taking off his shirt. “I’m going in!”

“Please,” Daishou said, watching as Tendou pulled off his shoes and socks, then began to undo his belt. “Oh, really?”

“Please don’t take off your pants,” Kuroo said. Tendou, however, paid no attention and pulled down his pants. “Oh my god.”

“WHY AREN’T YOU DOING ANYTHING ABOUT THIS?” Bokuto yelled at Ushijima, who was, in fact, not doing or saying a single thing about the fact that his friend was stripping in the middle of a public park to go Catch ‘Em All™.

“It’s okay, there’s no one here,” Tendou said, as if that were an excuse to be nude in public, and proceeded to take off his underwear. Everyone shielded their eyes until they heard him submerge into the water.

Kuroo sighed, then turned around and found Kenma kicking his sandals off. “Kenma!” he cried.

“Relax, I’m not gonna strip,” he said. Like _that_ was the bare minimum expectation here. He then started to walk into the pond after Tendou.

“At least take my phone with you!” Kuroo said, waving his phone out to Kenma. He turned around and took it, then proceeded into the pond.

Kuroo facepalmed. “I can’t believe this.” He turned around and saw Bokuto had taken off his tank top and screamed.

“Here, Bokuto, take my phone!” Daishou jumped and waved his phone in Bokuto’s face.

Kuroo leaned in close to Daishou. “I wouldn’t trust him with your phone if I were you,” he said.

“Well _I’m_ not going in there. They’re insane.”

Daishou, Kuroo, and Ushijima stood at the shore of the pond, watching in defeat, exasperation, and even a bit of awe as their friends floated at the center of the lake, a phone in each hand, and caught the dumbass Pokemon. They returned in the order in which they went, Tendou and his bare-ass-naked self coming to shore first. He handed Ushijima his phone (who still seemed somewhat unphased), shook himself off, then went and squatted behind a bush to shield himself as he waited to dry off enough to redress.

Kenma came next, completely soaked. He handed Kuroo his phone. “Got it.”

Kuroo took his phone back and stared at Kenma with some sort of expression, the corners of his mouth very slightly pulled upward. “Was it worth it?”

Kenma shrugged. “It’s hot out, anyways.”

Kuroo scoffed and watched as Bokuto dragged himself out of the pond.

Dripping wet, he walked up to Daishou, handed his phone back, then shook himself like a wet dog right in front of him, flinging pond water onto Daishou and whoever else happened to be within range.

“Euh! Dude!”

Bokuto laughed giddily, then held his arms open to Daishou. “Want a hug?”

“No, you freak!”

Bokuto laughed again and took a somewhat threatening step towards Daishou, who screeched and backed up.

“Don’t touch me!”

You can probably imagine what happened next.

Kuroo stood there howling with laughter, watching as an extremely wet, shirtless Bokuto chased Daishou around the garden.

Then he felt a pair of wet arms wrap around his middle, and screamed.

“Kenma!” He yelled. Kenma laughed and pulled himself off of Kuroo. Kuroo whipped around to look at him, but Kenma just opened his arms in a pseudo-friendly threat to touch him again.

Again, you can probably imagine what happened next.

The Apartment 420 gang was running and screaming around the garden like absolute children.

Tendou and Ushijima sat on the grass, watching the spectacle unfold.

Tendou hummed. “They’re weird!” he said. “Hey, Wakatoshi, wouldya hand me my undies?”

 

When the chaos came to a close, Tendou was once again fully dressed and the other boys were mostly dried.

“Well, I think I’ve had enough for today,” Daishou said. “It’s hot and I’m tired and I want to go home and eat Bokuto’s mozzarella sticks.”

“Agreed,” Kuroo said.

“Ooh, can we come?” Tendou asked, interest apparently piqued by the mozzarella sticks.

“Satori, it’s rude to invite yourself over to someone else’s home,” Ushijima said.

“Hmph! Yeah! Pretty rude if you ask me!” Bokuto said emphatically.

“Like you know anything about manners,” Kenma retorted. Tendou guffawed.

Kuroo nudged Daishou and gave him a look that said, _should we?_ Daishou gave him a very hesitant look back, one that could roughly be translated to _I don’t particularly want to but it could be amusing._ Kuroo took this as a yes.

“You know what, why not?” He said. The others turned to look at him. “You can come over for a bit, we don’t mind. Bokuto just bought food.” Kuroo smirked.

“Aw yeah!” Tendou cheered. “Let’s go, Wakatoshi!”

So. As Daishou called upon Siri to get them back home, the two former Shiratorizawa members tagged along. Back at the apartment Bokuto heated up the sticks and Daishou was kind enough to share his Papico in the meantime. They found some feel-good summertime movie on Netflix, popped open the windows to get a nice breeze, and lazed around for the rest of the afternoon.

Kuroo had to admit that it was kind of nice. It reminded him of summer break in junior high and high school, where he and his teammates would lay around after a three-on-three and watch TV while whoever’s mom served them lemonade and fruit. Kuroo loved summer. The heat was like a drug: enveloping you in its warmth, it makes you sluggish and tired, yet comforted. Other times it sends a buzz through your body that tells you to get up and move, to seek out fun and adventure and friendship. On an ideal day, it would do both.

Kuroo craved familiarity – yet in that moment, where he lay with two of his best friends, his ex-best friend (or ex-lover at the very least), and two people he hardly even knew – where familiarity was reduced to only a ghost of the past – his chest swelled with contentment.

Sometimes, the remedy for nostalgia was something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> the screenshot that inspired it all, dated july 10th, 2016:  
> 
> 
> next time on The Daishou Problem™:  
> a half chapter. booooo.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [aro-alien](http://aro-alien.tumblr.com)!


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